


Toyhammer - WarMallet 40mm

by ClocktowerEchos



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Battle, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Parody, Toyhammer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClocktowerEchos/pseuds/ClocktowerEchos
Summary: Inspired by Rogue Vector's ToyHammer, the greatest warriors of the 41st millennium... the size of a miniature! After coming home to a firefight in his living room, Max gets an unprecedented look into the lives of the far future's finest. As more forces arrive, he now has to keep a balance of all the factions while trying to prevent his house from collapsing into a warzone!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Exodus I - Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is originally posted on FF.net, I'm still learning how AOE3's formatting works so sorry for any weirdness. Comments, kudos and bookmarks always welcomed and reviews are even more so!

Power. It can come in many forms from many places. A position of authority, uncommon but useful knowledge, a network of close allies, information on someone they would rather keep private. Or in Max Dabing's case, standing several dozen times taller than some of the greatest warriors of the 41st Millennium. Who happened to be reenacting the greatest hits of the 41st millennium on your floor in a chaotic battle with all the bombs and whistles of the grimdarkness of the far future.

Careful not to squish anyone, Max slowly made his way over to his kitchen, over the miniature warriors all stunned into silence. With each step he took, vehicles and soldiers rushed out of his way to not be caught under foot. Devilfish, Howling Banshees, Leman Russ tanks, even Space Marines had stopped mid-fight to stare at Max the Emperor-class Titan towering above them. Eldar who were camped along the side of the wall, almost at face level just stared at the giant mon-keigh as it passed. Once having read a story about a situation exactly like this, Max already had a plan of what to do.

Retrieving the fire extinguisher from the cabinet under the sink, Max carefully stretch over the group of Tech Priests who had fallen to the ground, praying in binary. Hiding his excitement and his nervousness under a flat, stoic face of authority, Max examined the armies before him. By far the largest contingent was the Imperial Guard, who he could make out Cadian Shock Troops, Armageddon Steel Legion and another large regiment of soldiers he could not recognize who manned the artillery. Behind them was the cult of the machine, the Adeptus Mechanicus, whose Skitarii stood perfectly motionless, their heads following that of their Tech Priest controllers.

In the front line was the mighty warriors of the Adeptus Astartes, Space Marines of an unknown chapter in rust colored armor riding beasts that looked like rhinos with scouts using bows of all things. In their ranks, Max could spot the bright colors of several other chapters he did recognize. Space Wolves, Raven Guard, Imperial Fist, an entire range of other Marines of mixed roles with more iconic weapons. Accompanying them in their animal-riding battle was a group of Adepta Sororita, who along with carrying a standard load out of bolters and flamers, also had sisters appearing to cosplay Bretonnia to varying degrees mounted on something analogous to a horse.

Following the flow of battle from the Imperial side of his living that connected with the cooking area, Max saw the "Wall of Eldar". He kept his open floor home bare and spartan, the many shelves and walls not being used for much other than the odd trinket or photo or simply to gather dust. An Eldar force took all of the shelving space Max had and turned it into a multi-layered defense that could spew an equally powerful multi-layer salvo of fire.

Following the spread of Eldar forces let Max's eyes to the Tau forces along the floor and next to the dining room table. It had been claimed by the Tau contingent, desperately trying to fortify it and the surrounding area while still in the middle of the battle. After focusing in on it, Max's stomach dropped as he realized that within the fortifications was scores of non-combat personnel. The Tau had civilians with them, all of whom were cowering in slapdash bunkers and hiding next to destroyed battlesuits for cover.

"War spares no one it seems…" Max whispered to himself, turning away from the scene on his table as he walked over to the coffee table in the living room area. He placed the fire extinguisher with a loud thud on the hardwood and addressed the gathered armies whose eyes will still firmly locked on, "So… Welcome to my house everyone. See how its standing upright and not destroyed? I prefer it that way so I'd appreciate it if you'd all stop HAVING A WAR IN THE MIDDLE OF IT."

"And what makes you think you can stop us, mon-keigh?" an Eldar's voice dared to challenge Max's. Within seconds, Max had thrown a battery from a box on the coffee table at the wall, crushing a heavy weapons platform, and marched over to dowse a third of it in fire foam.

"I assume everyone's got leaders right? Commanders, generals, officers. I'd like to organize a little meeting of leaders." Max dangled the big red cynder at his side, glaring at the general direction the Eldar voice came from. "Please, meet on the unoccupied table made of wood in my living room."

Not wanting to see what else the giant human could potentially do to them, the Imperials and Tau began an awkward shuffle to disentangle from one another. As Max made his way back to his couch, the leaders slowly came forward with their own guards who eyed the other sides with suspicion.

A trio of Valkyries flew above the table with one landing on it and dropping off a man with a chest full of metals and an impressive coat with a fur collar, behind him was an entire squad of the unknown regiment acting as his guard. The Space Marine commander simply jumped out of one of the circling Valkyries with a mighty thud, using his enhanced physiology to simply absorb the landing shock with his own guards soon to follow.

The Tau commander had taken an entire cadre of battlesuits to follow him on the table, launching themselves up into the air, over the loveseat, and on to the table with an accompanying swarm of all types of drones. The Eldar came last, apparently having debated if they wanted to partake in this ritual or not. In the end, it was decided they would with a pack of jetbikes flying over the crowd and on to the table, their riders still ready to take off at the slight provocation.

"So… who are you guys?" Max took a good look at the forces, trying to discern where any of them might have come from, "I recognize the larger factions everyone is a part of, but not the colors you guys are specifically wearing."

"If thass the case, then the Conservators shall lead." The Marine command moved up first, his tanned face boasting a bionic eye, "Chapter Master Arkius Filmorick of the Conservators Chapter. Acting head of the Eodonic Crusade."

"Grand General Bragana of the Laptorian Expedition!" The Guard general wasted absolutely no time in announcing himself after the Space Marine. He puffed up his chest to display the medals and honors he wore. His entire outfit sort of reminded Max of a militarized jumpsuit, a khaki color with a tinge of orange with heavy duty black boots and rubber-looking gloves. Much of his armor appeared to lack the perfect cuts and standardized finishes of normal Guard armor; some parts seemed entirely handmade and looked straight out of a post apocalypse film.

"I'll have to ask what those two events are later." Max raised an eyebrow, always curious for interesting knowledge such as this, "Xenos, what is your story?"

"We are the children of Belethann, on a journey not privy to your lesser mind, mon-keigh. I am Faeris, Autarch of Singing Blades. And this is Ylandin, Farseer of the Thousand Winds. That is all you shall know of us." Faeris haughtily huffed at the giant mon-keigh, her Farseer companion gave her a sideways look you'd find in a parent's gaze after their child said something particularly unpleasant in public.

"Shas'O Dal'yth Zun'ere. Skyspirit in your tongue. I am here with the Ethereal Aun'Phai as part of a colonization fleeting." The Tau commander's terse short bluntness stood starkly in contrast with the flowery prose of the Eldar.

Max sat back into his couch and did his best to hide his fanboying. Part of him was still in disbelief of what was going on, wondering if it was all a dream. Taking a deep breath and hiding his smile by crossing his hands in front of his mouth in a Gendo pose, Max sat up straight and faced the leaders of well trained and highly dangerous armies that could probably wipe out several states and leave a number of smaller suburbs ruined husks. Even with their tiny scale, they were still pretty terrifying.

"Okay so first of all, my name is Max, this is my house. See how its still standing? I'd like to keep it that way and so second, I'd like to suggest an armistice agreement. Nobody fights and blows up my house and nobody gets banished to the great outdoors and left to fend for themselves. I can already tell most of you haven't brought supplies to stay here barring the Tau and their civilians. I know you all probably have grudges, real or imaginary, that go back at least a century, but if you could at least tolerate each other like adults, this whole thing can go over a bit smoother."

"And what if we refuse, mon-keigh?" the Autarch huffed.

"You're more than willing to try your luck outdoors. Between the comparatively giant wild animals, the fact that even rain can present a huge danger to you, the fact you have no idea how to feed yourself on this planet and that you might run into people who are a lot less welcoming than I am and might take great interest in dissecting all of you and your toys." Max was pretty sure he heard at least one tech priest faint and fall over. "Welcome to the modern era."

A harsh silence fell upon the massed armies before mummering swept over everyone, turning into a low hum of confusion and commotion. Guardsmen and Sororitas began talking with one another. The various Space Marines from different chapters discussed something over their helmet comms and the Tech Priests chirped in their Lingua Technica with increasing worry. The Xenos who were all unified under a single banner looked just as confused as to what was happening.

"If you don't mind me asking…" The General looked up after consulting his troops, "What is the current year? And where are we?"

"It's Earth, or Terra as you'd probably know it. Current date is like…. Early M2-ish?" Max tried to recall niche lore on Imperial timekeeping he hadn't read in a long time, "Wait no, it's like early M3 for you guys. Probably some 39,000 years from the time period all of you are familiar with."

Again, a silence blanketed the room, this time with a bit more panic. People were stunned. They knew they were probably a long way from home, but to be thousands of years before their greatest of grandparents were even born? It was incomprehensibly mind boggling. For the Imperials to be upon Holy Terra, before the Emperor was seated upon the Golden Throne or even before he embarked on the Great Crusade, it was overwhelming. Many of the Sisters dropped to their knees in prayer, forming the aquila with their hands, with some Guardsmen following. The Tech Priests began to commune in binary and took great interest in everything around them, eager to gaze upon the wonders of the pre-Dark Age of Technology. Some didn't take it well and were crying out in robotic outbursts, their mechanical minds trying to compute a logical chain of events that didn't exist.

The Tau, entirely separated from this period of history and whose ancestors were likely still fearful of thunder and wild predators, just had a sense of wonder wash over them. They had no concept, no anchor point from which to judge or truly grasp at the scale of time that had shocked the Imperials. Those Tau who weren't wearing helmets and that Max could see just stared at the walls, the floor and out the windows into the green yard and forest beyond.

The Eldar had taken this news with the most grace and composure. While worrisome, none were acting the same as the Tau or the Imperials. Yet many wondered what was of their kin in this very moment. Some even wondered if there was anyway to connect with them or even, avert the fate that doomed their species.

"M… 3… By tha Emperor..." Arkius was the most visibly shaken of all the leaders on the coffee table. His honor guard rushed to his side as the Chapter Master dropped to one knee, stabbing his sword into the table with the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders.

"H-Hey, is he going to be okay?" Max got up and hovered over the table. Before he could even open his mouth to ask his next question, someone fired off a shot in the background. And within seconds, the house erupted into conflict again as Max cursed and grabbed his fire extinguisher.


	2. Exodus II - The Guards and the Sisters

The fighting had finally stopped as Max blasted the last pocket of a melee fight with his fire extinguisher. Anyone not wearing a mask was on the floor coughing, stumbling and leaning on those with masks to try and get out of the sudden blast of white CO2 that covered everyone equally. Throwing down several pens on the floor, Max more or less forced a DMZ on the floor. Anyone else who tried to start another fight got to meet the hard end of Big Red. Anyone who was hard enough to resist Big Red got to taste friendly fire via the nearest armored vehicle getting thrown at them.

Going back to the couch, he watched as the space marines finished up their combat with the Eldar Autarch before Max lowered the nozzle of the extinguisher at them. It turns out that while Arkius wasn't cataconic or anything like that (Astartes training tends to remove things like that), he was sort of stunned and silent. From what the marines were willing to tell Max, their chapter took oaths very seriously and the Chapter Master had been hit with the thought of if they had unintentionally abandoned their oaths to protect their system by being sucked out into the past.

"Hey, hey." Max got off his couch and kneeled on the carpet in front of the table, bringing him closer (hypothetically) to the sullen Arkius, "I don't know the details of what's going on. But don't beat yourself up over something you had no control over. I'm certain that you didn't purposely abandon your duty. There's no use being sad and dying for no reason before their great, great, great grandfathers were even born."

"... You make a good point Maximas." the Chapter Master stood up and took a deep breath, "It would be a foolish act of self pity."

"Can I rely on you to enforce a ceasefire on your men?" Max looked hopeful at the rest of the space marines in the back. Most had a similar rusted appearance as their chapter master while others had more traditional liveries. He could spot at least some Space Wolves, a handful of Ultramarines, a pack of White Scars on bikes and a spattering of bright colors that stood out from the rest of the Imperial blob.

"Aye. Upon my honor, there shall be no bloodshed in your household from the Adeptus Astartes." Arkius stabbed his blade into the table and put a fist over his chest in what was some sort of ceremony, "For the time being."

"The Laptorian Expedition will continue its priority objective of settling a new land." General Bragana followed suit but gave the Xenos a suspicious look, "However, we reserve the ability to fortify and take any actions deemed necessary towards that objective and defend the Emperor's Will."

Max nodded, it was probably the best he was going to get out of the Guard for the time being.

"The Tau seek similar goals." the battlesuit looked up at Max, "We have our own civilians and settlers we must protect and defend."

"The Eldar will not make any promises to a mon-keigh who cannot be guaranteed to not-"

WHAM

"Care to try that again?" Max sinisterly smiled at the Eldar flattened under the extinguisher who in turn stared at her Farseer who had taken a few steps back.

"Hurrghh... Fine!" Faeris picked herself up and brushed her armor off once the mighty crimson hammer of Max was removed, "We shall let the primitives do as they please so long as they do not interfere with our goals. You are counted among them."

Again, it was probably the closest that Max was going to get for the time being, "I suppose we should get everyone situated then. I already have some ideas..."

=][= =][= =][= =][= =][=

The house was a place that one of Max's real estate uncles had bought a while ago. However, no one was buying and still owing a favor to Max's dad, Max was the lucky receipt of the property for his duration at college. So long as he kept it clean and in working order, Max had the whole two story home to himself. After reading on about housekeeping and basic repairs, the guy had a pretty comfortable place to fulfill the ultimate millennial dream. The whole house was bare and spartan in that modern contemporary style of smooth linoleum floors and bare concrete walls. Max actually liked the style; it was a lot easier to clean hard floors than it was carpet. A fact all the more convenient when the legions of warriors from the grim far future came in and started fighting all over it.

From the front door, there was a hall cut in half by the stairs leading up. Bending around a corner, the wall had two doors: one leading to the laundry room that in turn led to the mostly empty garage and the other to the study where Max kept his computer, enjoying the homey feel of the wood it had. On the other wall was another pair of doors, one leading downstairs to a messy basement, and the other to the only bathroom on the floor. The hall finally ended in a large, open space that housed both the dining table and the living room consisting of the TV, a coffee table, and a pair of couches in an L shape. Between it and the long half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen area, was the sliding glass door on to the patio which in turn led to the backyard. The property was on a lonely forested hill with no neighbors and only the wilderness beyond. Max hated to admit it, but when he first moved in, he was mildly scared of what could lurk in the shadowy forests beyond. He grew out of the fear eventually. The mass of sci-fi warriors and their armies also really helped to reinforce it.

Going up the stairs, the second level held the master bedroom with an attached bathroom where Max slept, a trio of bedrooms, another bathroom and another open area with seating and a table that pushed one of the bedrooms up against the master. The walls all over the house were mostly bare, sparing Max's master bedroom, but there was still a load of stuff in each of the closets and cupboards. Max's mother had insisted on him taking a bunch of stuff and there was already a good deal of scattered junk in the house. On a hunch, Max guessed that the house was used as storage for his extended family while the house wasn't on sale.

It was fascinating to watch these tiny armies go to work constructing their own bases and settlement for Max. Like an ant colony that could talk and interact with him. All three had taken advice from Max on how they could build up (who in turn had to reference that older story he once read). It had only been a fully day since everyone appeared and still, most were going at it with great vigor. It probably helped that at least a few of the factions were supposed to be colonization efforts. Turns out the difference in setting up a base on a barren world wasn't as different as it was setting up a base on the floor of a giant's house.

The Guard and the AdMech had set up one of the bedrooms on the other side of the hall from Max's room. The marine contingent had opted to set up in the open area on the floor while the Sisters claimed the bedroom closest to the bathroom in the name of Saint Joyane.

Peaking into the Guard's room, Max couldn't help but smile as he saw the row upon row of neatly organized Lego blocks. It was a technicolor mess that wasn't easy on the eyes, but just watching the soldiers use their Chimeras to pull cardboard sleds of blocks against the bare floor was amazing. It was like all of those times Max played with toy soldiers, building a base out of premade plastic sandbags and shoebox command bunkers.

From what he had learned, the Guardsmen contingent originally journeyed into the Luptorian System (the General's accent made U's and A's sound similar at times) done out of what the commissar told me was likely a political move. The guardsmen were there to protect the transports while being reinforcements to one of the hold out planets. An explorator fleet of the Mechanicus was tagging along as there were reports of valuable technology on one of the worlds. But unfortunately, it didn't seem like the entire fleet made it. Only half the explorator fleet had managed to come into Max's living room and a large portion of the civilians the guard was supposed to escort didn't appear either.

"Hey Max." a calmed and grizzled voice appeared on top of the dresser, "I have the General's requisition orders. He'd like to thank you in person for what you've done so far, but there's a meeting he has to attend so I'm here."

The man wore the unmistakable black greatcoat and pointed hat of the commissariat. In fact, Werden J Basklow was the Lord Commissar of the expedition. Man was tough as nails with only the Marines and a few of the Sisters having more combat experience than him. Yet his demeanor was calm and stoic, with a preference for leading from the front instead of bold speeches and liberal amounts of executions. He had been instrumental in getting Max up to speed with the Luptorian Expedition. How of the regiments that survived, two had been from the General's homeworld of Sallot, the 19th Sallotic Fire Corp and the 88th Sallotic Armored Corp, with the Cadian 231st Infantry and the Armageddon 97th Mechanized being the biggest to have also come through.

"Thank you commissar." Max took the awkwardly sized piece of paper and looked over it, more materials and food mostly, "Does the Mechanicus require anything?"

"The servants of the Omnissiah requested additional metal and more of your ancient technology to research." The slow, spaced out mechanical male voice of the Magos Explorator J-1M had been drilled into Max's head as one of the more constant ones due to his incessant request to study everything from Max's smartphone to the microwave. Hell, they nearly cut off the wifi to the whole house with one of their "expeditions" to the study. Had it not been for Magos Errant H4-NH, Max probably would have just locked the leader of the Mechanicus forces in a box somewhere. She was slightly more tolerable, if not for the fact her speech cadence wasn't half as jarring to Max.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." Max mumbled under his voice, turning his gaze away from the metal body of J-1M who had accompanied Basklow.

The Mechanicus had claimed the empty metal bed frame in the center of the bedroom as their own domain. While a far cry from the huge, sprawling manufactorums of a forge world, their industries impressed Max. Their development was only out paced by the Tau. Workshops were already being set up and plasma cutters where being used to cut down soup cans and other materials to cover the Bed Frame Plateau into a solid platform. A crude ramp was cobbled together out of an unused notebook, reinforced with the stiffest of cardboard, and held up by fishing rod wire on wenches. Ground vehicles rumbled up and down it in an orderly line to reach the workshops and maintenance bays. Flyers were lucky and instead just landed on frisbees used as landing pads.

As Max turned out of the door, he nearly stepped down on a black Rhino transport that let out an obnoxious screech of a horn to warn him. Quickly apologizing, he let the transport convoy pass, watching them take water tanks made of soup cans laid flat drive out of the hallway bathroom and into the side room. Poking his head in, he saw the Order of the Sacred Chalice continue to build their very ambitious project of a suitable cathedral. Large sheets of cardboard were everywhere, being cut into smaller pieces using swords or borrowed lasers. Then they were each painted or decorated with finishing from any number of workshops in this room or the Guard's room. There was a slight smell of burnt plastic as workers cut into several colored plastic bottles to create a "stained glass" window.

There was a very knightly feel to the incomplete design, resembling more like a castle with its walls and towers as opposed to an ordinary cathedral. As Max learned from one of the Conservators, the Order was originally from a feudal world and were big into the ideas of chivalry and knighthood. Most of the sisters were either knights or daughters of knightly houses prior to joining.

"Brother Max." Canoness Selora flew in front of Max's face carrying a basket of scrolls, "Emperor bless you for your generous grant of land and material to our order."

"No problem sister. Need anything else?"

"Aside from general foodstuffs? I suspect we'll need more materials to create monuments to the Emperor for the cathedral."

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, good work on your building. Can't wait to see it finished!"

The canoness smiled at the complement before she flew away. Careful not to walk chest first into a passing Valkyrie, Max had one last stop on the top floor before heading downstairs for breakfast and to check on the xenos: the Space Marines.


	3. Exodus III - The Marines and Xenos

Of all the factions that now lived in his house, the space marines were the ones that Max had gotten to know the best. The bulk of them were from a little known chapter called the Conservators, guardians of a stretch of space known as the Asharn March. They were a far cry from the traditional view of an Astartes, some not even having any power armor and instead relying on plate armor and explosive bolt bows.

It could be seen as luck that the Conservators were the ones ripped from the far future as they are likely the best chapter to have been able to cope with this new situation. They were already used to operating on near minimal resources and adapted accordingly. Quite literally living out of shoeboxes, they nevertheless kept to a rigid schedule of training, prayer and scouting. A firing range was set up with playing card targets. The training rings were just double layered paper plates that shifted around whenever a man was thrown on to the ground. And a handful of shoeboxes were used as barracks, some boasting simple painted symbols of other chapters. For the time being, the Marines didn't have their own motorpool and relied on the Guard's, most of the animals the chapter used in place of light vehicles were kept with the Sister's thoroughbreds.

Their new fortress monastery was being slowly brought up, combining both Legos and reinforced layers of cardboard atop the table in the open room. It gave them an excellent line of sight over the entire floor and more importantly, the stairs. Serfs and tech priests loaded materials onto jerry rigged wenches and wheel cranes to be hoisted into the sky. Somewhere, a choir was singing their hymns and taking advantage of the excellent acoustics of the second floor. Combined with the steady industrial beats and the sound of tools at work, the ambiance provided was unrivalled.

An Eldar aircraft rose up from the floor below, its engines breaking the rhythmic background sounds, and hovered past Max. Within seconds, anti-air weapons locked on and trailed the graceful craft. A single spray of warning shots convinced it to abandon its mission, forcing the craft to execute an elegant loop before disappearing back downstairs.

"That is the fourth scout the Eldar have tried to send up. Not counting the time they tried to land raiders." Arkius watched as Max swatted away some of the lingering smoke from the AA guns, "Any ways, do you need something Sir Maximas?"

"Nothing in particular, just checking up on you guys." Max squatted down to face the Chapter Master as he stood on the table overlooking the Recroom Heights, "Any more tidbits of history you're willing to share?"

"If you are willing to convince the Eldar to cease their pitiful attempts at scouting, I could tell you about the Titan Stone."

"Why does this feel like a video game quest?"

"What is a vid-deo game?"

"Never mind, I'll try and talk to the Eldar." Max stood up and made his way down the stairs, passing a group of plate armored Scouts climbing them up and down for training.

The Eldar, deciding that the ground was too lowly for them, had settled in on the shelves and along the walls of the main hallway. With their magical wraithbone, they had created an almost floating lattice network of platforms and bridges that crossed the top of the ceiling with enough room for Max to walk under. There was something beautifully fluid in their design, in a modern art type of way. They had requested this area because of some "psychic resonance in the winds", but Max was mostly certain they picked this spot because it meant they controlled the downstairs entrance and could annoy the Imperials at will. There had already been another skirmish on the stairs that Max had to intervene in.

Still, the porcelain snowflake that the Eldar wove was dazzling. The old cream-colored Christmas lights Max had dug up made them even more beautiful as each bulb hung like a teardrop or flower under the white wraithbone, naturally mixed into the architecture itself. It reminded Max of those photos chains hung on similar lights he'd seen in his friend's dorms. For as stuck up as they were, they did know their aesthetic really well. It probably helped that they weren't as reliant on using materials that Max gave them unlike everyone else.

"Max, you wished to talk?" Farseer Ylandin appeared on a white catwalk that reached out from an empty coat hook.

"How did you-" it took Max a second to actually find Ylandin in the maze of white above his head.

"One of many abilities a Farseer possesses is telepathy. I believe you humans have a quote about unguarded minds? In your defense, I actually had to consciously think to try and discover your thoughts. Strong of will you must be."

"I feel like there's something to be said about a breach of privacy with this." Max muttered as he looked around, trying to spot an Autarch.

"Autarch Faeris is occupied with training at the moment. I can take your question."

"I have a feeling you already know what that question is."

"I do. And the Eldar have not taken any hostile actions to warrant such a brutish response from the other mon-keigh."

"I'm sure the raiding force you attempted to land on the top of the stairs last night was anything but peaceful."

"We comply to the rules that we see are just. Our goals are beyond our time to try and explain to you. While the others are concerned only with the defense of their tiny areas, we are concerned with the wellbeing of the entire structure, nay, world."

"You guys are trying to protect the entirety of earth... From within my foyer?"

"An Eldar's psychic might is greater than any other. We seek to guide this even more primitive form of mon-keigh into a hopefully less belligerent future."

"Only thing greater than your psychic might is your ego..." Max whispered under his breath.

Max couldn't actually see the face Ylandin was making, but he was certain it was somewhere between a deadpan stare and a frustrated glare. Moving away from the Eldar Pass, the Tau had built up their little settlement more or less where Max first saw them, on his dining room table. Similar to the Eldar, they managed to make do with mostly native materials, using their alien alloy to construct smooth, utilitarian buildings. They arrived with most of their colonization equipment already with them.

A metropolis was starting to build on top of the table with towers and gun platforms poking out. Max could also see what were obviously expansion plans that involved a project of hanging something under the table and a much more mundane outpost on the opposite wall against the kitchen half wall and sink counter. Drones buzzed all around like mechanical flies, while battlesuits hauled the larger loads. Max could barely tell one battlesuit apart from another to try and find Skyspirit. However, he could make out the shape of a Tau standing on a floating platform coming towards him.

"Good morning Gue'vesa'o." Aun'Phai the Ethereal waved and followed Max as he went around the kitchen island to the fridge, "Have you had a pleasant day so far?"

"It's been fine enough. As fine as having a few hundred new roommates can b- Hey! What are you doing in there!" Max opened the freezer to his fridge and saw a pair of Space Wolves huddled in the ice, attempting to eat through some frozen berries under taclight. A tense standoff between two Sons of Russ, half of their faces covered in red juice, and a man the size of a titan. Somewhere, some daemonic entity of comedic timings was laughing their ass off. For his part, Aun'Phai cheerfully waved at the space marines.

"WØT?"

"You know what. I don't even want to know. Try not to start another battle when going back up the stairs."

Closing the freezer on "Operation Bjorn Berries", Max opted for some breakfast eggs instead. Apparently, with nothing better to do, Aun'Phain watched as the Gue'la prepared some proportionally massive eggs, the hot oil sputtering up to be caught by his deflect shields.

"So what does Gue'vesa'o mean? I'm not exactly proficient in Tau. Hell, sometimes I can barely speak English." Max flipped his eggs over before retrieving a box of cereal from the cupboard.

"It is a term used for Gue'vesa commanders of the highest rank." Aun'Phai's voice was calm and soothing, reminding Max of his Chinese grandfather in a way, "We thought it fitting to bestow you the title as you are the master of this household."

The flattery didn't go beyond Max's head. Even if he could connect more with the Imperials, talking to the Tau was probably his favorite. The idealism they still held in a galaxy gone to shit might have been jarring to read, but something about them in the modern day made them more personable. As Max plated his breakfast and prepared his cereal, he watched the Tau's stronghold on his dining table come together. In some ways, it was like watching the Sisters and their cathedral. A lot of deployable home pods, propped up on little legs, were already set up and even stacked on top of each other.

"Aun'Phai." Max wolves down one of his fried eggs, "Do you guys need anything else for now?"

"While it would have been nice to have the modular bricks of the Imperials, we would be happy for any additional materials you could provide. Our own reserves run only so deep."

Max could feel the bitterness hidden behind that soft voice. One of the very first battles after the initial armistice had been between the Guard and the Tau over the valuable bricks. However, Max already had an idea. In the meanwhile, a gift of several old jars of Playdough was meant to hold the blue aliens over. They had to be rehydrated and smelled something fierce to the Tau, but they would have to make do.

Taking a look back at what the Imperials had wanted, Max began to make a complete list of everything he needed to buy. At the top of the list was food. Feeding so many people was going to be an interesting challenge. Canned food was likely the way to go for both the cost and the metal the mini people would use. He had already seen the Imperials use some sort of spigot for soup cans he gave them, flamers proving very handy in lighting "soup bonfires" to heat them. Rice was likely an easy way to feed a bunch of people. Max's rice cooker was more than enough to feed him and he imagined that even a few grains of rice would be fairly filling to people the size of his thumb. As for protein, canned fish was likely the answer. Or maybe the bagged stuff. Everyone gets a chunk from the patty, and it could be eaten without heating.

Any sort of vegetable would be trouble though as they'd all have to be cut up somehow. Maybe he could try and convince everyone to just eat grass? Fruits could be an alternative and the sight of a hundred little guys just going at a banana gave Max a giggle. Grapes could be another alternative with a group just picking one off a stem. What if he used nuts? A large jar or can of nuts could be used the same as a soup can. The more he thought about it, the more thankful he was at how little wood and carpet was actually in the house. It became obvious that foods requiring heating would become more common and given how happy some of the pyromaniacs were in the armies, alongside just the dangers of trying to cook something so big when you are so small, made Max glad to have bought a fire extinguisher before all of this.

Finishing the rest of his food and dropping the plates into the sink, Max grabbed his backpack and prepared to make a supply run. As he walked out the door, he desperately hoped there would still be a door when he came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For anyone whose curious, the Conservators actually exist on 1d4chan as their own fan-made entry. I put them in here because I love them that much. All other factions/regiments are my own creation


	4. Exodus IV - Scouting Party

Lunar light covered the top landing of the stairs, hanging high in the clear night. The Imperial night watch was in the middle of their second shift, an empty bottle of medicine sat the end of the railing with a single guardsman at the top, the banner of the Imperial Aquilla behind him. Defensive emplacements and pre-ranged mortars slept behind him, their crews were nearby asleep under tents and on bedrolls enhanced with the limited softness of tissues. A single Salamander Scout rolled up and disgorged a group of guardsmen of the Cadian 231st. Clutching their camo cloaks and grappling hooks, they called command .

"Command, this is Dagger 1, we're in position and awaiting link up."

"Copy Dagger, the Astartes should be with you shortly. Remember, your mission is simply to scout and to survey the interior of the garage. Sir Maximas informed us that's where spare tools and resources are typically found. If we can mark out the most valuable items, we might be able to claim them in the future without conflict before the Xenos can."

"Copy all Command, think the Astartes are arriving. Dagger 1 out, Emperor Protects."

"Emperor Protects Dagger 1."

Five horses galloped up to the recon team, each one carrying a scout marine of the Conservators in their signature master-crafted plate armor and boltbows. The guardsmen dropped to a knee in awe and reverence before the scout sergeant relieved them, still unused to the typical reverence that most Astartes got just for being in the same ZIP code as a guardsman. Now with the recon force at 10 men, they all checked their gear once more time and examined the stairs.

"Guardsmen, are you ready?" the sergeant adjusted his cloak as another guardsman on night duty took them away to be hitched up to an upside down mug that acted as another guard post..

"Affirmative sir. Waiting on your mark."

"Good. Getting down should be quick but getting back up will be tricky. Intel suggests that the Eldar have made their home along the upper walls of the entryway and main corridor. Stick close to the walls, we don't know what kind of detection they are using. Ready? Lets move."

With that, the recon team began their mission. With the help of their enhanced biology, the scout marines had no trouble simply leaping down from stair to stair. The Cadians on the other hand had to use a bit more finesse to work their way down, hanging off ledges and dropping down carefully while laying down their ropes for when they came back up. Finally, after braving the long flight of stairs, the team was finally at the bottom. With a hand gesture from the scout sergeant, everyone pulled up their camo cloaks and hugged the wall. Above the, a growing Eldar web covered the ceiling in a multi-leveled network of bridges, platforms, walkways and outcroppings. The long strands of festive lights made it seem like a sky of stars from the ground. Some of the guardsmen looked up in amazement. For all their lives they were told to despise the Xenos, but surely they didn't have to despise what they could make right?

A gentle tapping of the foot from the scout sergeant brought everyone back into focus along with a thumb pointed towards the laundry rom door. They could take pictures when they weren't on a mission. Huddled under their cloaks, the recon team formed a line, shuffling their way around the corner. The next bit could easily be the most dangerous part of the entire mission. The team would need to run across open ground and then run along a perpendicular wall into the laundry room where the garage entrance would be.

"Command, this is Sabre Actual. We're at the base of the stairs and preparing to cross the pass. Requesting Ordinance Drop Beta-4." the scout sergeant reported back to Imperial HQ.

"Copy Sabre, deploying Beta-4, be prepared to move."

A messenger bolted out of the large "Classic Mix Party Chips" box that had a yellow Post-It "CentComm" stuck just above the entrance. Jumping into an already warm Salamander Scout, they sped off across the hard floor and drove hard towards the Recroom Heights, driving over a mess of unconnected and unorganized cables. Tech priests were still trying to figure out a way to set up secure communications. A marine was waiting for them as they sped towards the base of the fortress monastery. A series of flashing lights later, the Salamander joined a small herd of other vehicles connected by ropes. Tying one rope to the back end of itself, the procession waited for the signal to proceed.

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

"Of fuck was that?" Max's brain struggled to string a functional sentence together as he woke up from his sleep. Looking at his phone and pulling his earbuds out, he saw it was still that golden period of time he referred to as "the ass crack of dawn o'clock". AKA "too damn dark for anything to be happening". Something in the hall fell and hit the ground hard and Max felt compelled to check it out in case someone died or something exploded. Armed with his phone's flashlight and his best pair of bunny slippers, he opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Turning on the lights, he saw a small group of Imperial vehicles surrounding a leaking can of soup.

"Sir Maximas!" one of the officers shouted from his Chimera's opening, "We're terribly sorry to awake you. We were just-"

"Don't want to hear it." Max sleepily muttered as he went back into his room towards the bathroom, "I'll get some paper towels to clean it up. Make sure nothing else falls over eh?"

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

The recon team could hear Max's heavy footsteps and voice above them along with all of the other commotion. Through their scopes and view-finders, the team could see the Eldar moving about in their sky city, clearly distracted by the sudden Beta-4 Soup Drop and ensuing intervention from Max. With their path clear, the sergeant urged everyone forward with hand gestures. One by one, they all made a dead sprint towards the laundry room wall. At the very end of the line though, Dagger 5 thought he saw something in the shadow, a shifting... something that came from the direction of the living room.

"Psst!" Dagger 4 hissed through her teeth to get her trailing comrade back on task. Ignoring the shadows, Dagger 5 regrouped with the rest of the team. The noise of the Beta-4 was winding down, it seems like Max had finished cleaning and was returning to bed.

"Sabre, this is Command, Beta-4 has been completed, what's your time table?"

"Command, Sabre and Dagger have just made it past the Eldar Hall, breaching into the Laundry Chamber now."

There was a slight crack in the door to the laundry room that Max had left earlier that day. A pair of Space Wolves identified it when they tried to make their way back to base from another "scouting mission". The guardsmen formed a defensive ring, lascarbines raised, as the scout marines tried to crack the door open some more. On such a small scale, the towering wooden door required a great deal of strength just to open.

"Think I see something moving." Dagger 5 exhaled as he tried to track a glimmer in the moonlight, "Something's out there watching us, I can feel it."

"Shut it guardsman, we don't need to be jumping at shadows here." Dagger 1 snapped as quietly as he could at the rookie.

"No, I feel it too. We aren't alone." Dagger 3 stood up and slowly walked back towards the marines.

"Dammit people, we don't need a repeat of Lemarr City." Dagger 1 growled but continued to close the ring with the others.

A sudden creek from the door froze everyone in place as all their hearts skipped a beat. The scout marines furthest from the door drew their blades and bows also taking aim at the shadows. Auspex readings from one of them came up empty. Without a word, everyone began to pile into the dark laundry room, guns still pointed into the hallway. The teal tiled floor greeted them, as did the massive counters and the towering machines stacked on top of each other. The air smelled of chemicals but of the flowery and soft kind instead of the harsh, industrial type the guardsmen were used to in hive cities. One wall was filled with huge brooms, cleaning equipment and a large flat boat strung up on a hook. The trailing scout marine pulled the door in to close it slightly, still leaving enough space to push it out on their way out.

"Marines, I want ye to go and find us an entrance into the 'garage chamber' along this wall. That metal door is sealed shut and we can't blow it. Guardsmen, standpoint and keep ye nerves about." the sergeant split up his team as they activated their tac lights.

As the marines scoured the wall, shuffling into corners and crevices, the guardsmen took up a firing line and kneeled, spaced out from one another. Their breathing was heavy as their eyes struggled in the darkness. None of the regiments had any dedicated night vision with them, at least none the tech priests were willing to allow. While every Cadian was trained for battle, their training typically didn't include covert scouting missions, at least not for most soldiers.

"Sarge, I found an entrance!" one of the scout marines waved from behind one of the towering machines. Some large, soft, metallic tube was coming out of one of them and went through the wall. And there was just enough room between the tube and the hole in the wall. One by one, each of them flattened themselves against the narrow space between the machines and the walls. Careful not to grate their face or equipment against the metal, their chests just barely had enough space to expand for breath. Forcing themselves up to the hole by pushing their backs against the wall using their legs on the machine, the slim sliver of space could barely fit them.

"Wait." Dagger 5 paused at the end of the line as Dagger 1 was climbing over the edge, "Did anyone else see the door open more?"

For a few tense seconds, only the steady metronome of a leaking faucet, dripping its droplets of water onto a tub sink made any sound. The moonlight faded as the clouds above sunk the room into an even deeper shadow. There wasn't any room to pull out guns or even fight. Still, hands found themselves wrapped around knives.

"You need to lay off the recaff mate." Dagger 4 kicked the jumpy soldier in the ankle, "I think the stuff Maximas gives us is stronger than what we're used to."

Now slightly more motivated, the squad clambered over the hole into the garage. Finally able to take deep breathes again, the guardsmen welcomed the cool night air into their lungs. More lights came on as stealth wasn't required any more. It was clear Max had not been in here for some time. The smooth, cracked floor was casted black in darkness as its high walls enveloped the recon team in a frightening embrace. Boxes and containers of all sorts were piled high and strewn about, creating natural alleyways and chokepoints. Perhaps once there had been some sort of organization in this antechamber, but that was long gone.

"Alright everyone, spread out and start marking things down. Remember, we want to claim whatever we can while we're here. Make inventory lists if ye need too. I'll report to command. Mind the gaps, seems to be a lotto cracks and holes in the floor here." the sergeant dialed back to Imperial CentComm, "Command, this is Sabre Actual, we've reached the target area, spreading out and marking."

"... G-... ke... Pi..."

"Command? Command? This is Sabre Actual to Imperial Central Command, do you copy?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads to watch the sergeant struggle to get a link back up. At the risk of raising his voice beyond a whisper, the marine kept trying to call back only to be met with silence as the static cut into nothingness. Finally fed up, he took a deep breath and addressed the worried faces he saw, "Keep on with the mission. Must be something faulty with the vox signals, might be this "wife-fly" things Maximas was talking about."

With solemn nods, the squads went back to work. The team encountered boxes made of a material similar to the plastics they had been given, but much more durable. Ginormous constructs sat dormant in corners, with wheels twice the size of a (tiny) man. Huge blades and tools hung on the wall like a trophy rack as well as the metal skeleton of a beast, stripped bare of any flesh to reveal its colored bones. Only two round rings hung on the carcass. A layer of dust coated the cracked ground, so thick in some places it was like walking into a snow drift.

"This place is a goldmine!" Dagger 2 exclaimed over the vox, "Imagine all that we could build with this."

"Tell me about it." Dagger 1 flashed his light over a large work table, attempting to distinguish what he could from the ground as he stepped over a hole, "Hey, Dagger 4, can you see if there's any way up there? Dagger 4?"

The guard leader looked around to try and find his subordinate, shining his light trying to search for them. They had just walked out of an especially dust covered bit yet there wasn't any sign of Dagger 4. Dagger 1 could see the distant cones of lights of the others in the team, but he only counted eight others plus himself.

"This is Dagger 1, has anyone seen Dagger 4?"


	5. Exodus V - Old Friends

Panic gripped the guardsmen as they abandoned what they were doing to try and find their fourth. The scouts held firm in their resolve but kept a tight grip on their weapons. Some of the guardsmen tried to call out, but nothing came of it.

"I-I thought he was with you sir." Dagger 3 shivered as their light swung wildly around the room, scanning the sinister cardboard and desolate concrete.

"Everyone keep calm and regroup on me towards the center of the room." the scout sergeant called out into the darkness.

Jumping across the ground and over loose junk on the floor, the guardsman instinctively rushed to the protection of the marines, even if they were just scouts. Weapons were drawn, carbines leveled as bowstrings were drawn. Cones of lights danced along the darkened surface, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary as everyone hoped they didn't.

"Wait, we're another man short." One of the scouts realized. Panic again gripped at the hearts of everyone in the room before they saw a stray cone of light coming from around a corner. Without a word, the sergeant sent three of his scouts and two guardsmen to investigate. They took deep breaths and moved in. Some of them had been raised in hive cities and would have been used to the shadows and their ambush potential, but there was too much open space for their senses, now hypersensitive to even the smallest changes. Every distant wind howl was picked up, every shift of the moonlight registered and every shiver down a spine taken as a sign.

Stacking up on the side of a box, the squad organized a breaching formation. One guardsman peaked around the corner, aiming his lascarbine down the alley while a second rolled across and did the same from the other corner. A scout marine drew his bow and faced down the same alley with an explosive arrow but nothing. The two remaining marines slowly marched down, blades in hand, and made their way towards the light source. It was a standard issue guard helmet, its light was still on. One of the guardsmen identified it as belonging to Dagger 5, noting one of the stickers on the side. Something scurried in the shadows ahead.

Just as the two marines nodded and prepared to investigate further, the garage door opened. Everyone turned around and the squad left behind pointed their weapons at the slim opening. The breaching squad decided that the door was a more pressing issue, picking up the helmet and carefully making their way back, trying to spot whatever came through the door. But nothing did. For what felt like forever, the crack in the door kept open, slowly swinging in, with nothing more coming out, even after the 8-man squad fully regrouped.

Suddenly, the sergeant fired a shot from his bow that went wide and detonated in the air. Everyone thought he missed or fired at a shadow until they all saw the flickering of a drone crashing into the cold hard ground. _Tau stealth drones_. A burst of fire followed in the general direction, only for a return volley to whiz by everyone's heads.

"Storm Clouds Maneuver! Snake-pattern! Now!" the sergeant called out as his scouts began to throw flash grenades and deploy smoke to cover the team's movements, "Look away gents!"

A series of blinding flashes lit up the massive garage as two trails of smoke curved out, a classic maneuver of distraction. However, once the dazzling lights faded, a dull illumination continued from the ground. The team first thought it was an after effect of their grenades, until a scout pointed out that their flash grenades didn't glow _green_.

The sergeant stopped in his tracks and looked back. All of those cracks and holes in the ground. They were starting to glow. He could barely make out the form of the Tau stealth team, still barely visible, suddenly shifting their fire toward the ground to the side of them.

"Sabre! Dagger! Where are you?" The vox network suddenly came back as the team climbed the ramp in front of the door, establishing a firing line just before the crack, "Vox's have been down, we thought something happened to you!"

"Command, Sabre Actual reporting. Requesting immediate evac. We have encountered a Tau presence and an additional unknown hostile force." The sergeant fired an unaimed shot into the smoke behind them as a guardsman did the same.

"We can't send evac, the Eldar are going to-"

"WE DON'T CARE!" Dagger 1 shouted into the vox as he saw some of the Tau's pulse shots suddenly veer into the ceiling. He had a sneaking suspicion that someone just got toppled, "We got enough information and unless you want to not have it, we need an evac!"

A period of tense silence fell on the network as some of the team could see figures moving in the smoke and many, many more green lights appeared. The remaining guardsmen reloaded their guns with bated breaths as the scouts checked their quivery. The smoke they threw hadn't dissipated and instead seemed to have just become part of the scenery. Frantic Tau could be heard along with wild pulse fire.

"This is Command. Valkyrie evac request has been accepted. Eagle 1 en route for pick up, stand your ground until they arrive."

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

Tech priests began to recite arcane binary litanies as they performed the Rites of Ignition, beseeching the Valkyrie's machine spirit as its pilots ran across the plastic catwalks of the Bedframe Plateau towards the landing frisbee. Holy incense was wafted around as the pilot began his preflight checks and the co-pilot recited a heavily shortened version of the Prayer of Flight in Low Gothic.

The commbead in their flight helmets lit up as they received official debriefings from the command box, "Pilots, sorry for the rude awakening. But we have a recon team requesting immediate extraction from an unidentified threat in the Garage Chamber. You are to land at the Laundry Chamber and extract them. There's no way of not being noticed by the Xenos and they will likely attempt to shoot you down.

"Sounds like there's going to be a hell of a diplomatic incident." the pilot snarked back as final preparations were made and the tech priests moved away, "If they ever manage to hit us sir."

"Your skill is exactly the reason why you're being picked for this. General Bragana says he'll deal with any political fallout, those scouts and that info is crucial to our future plans. Emperor Protects."

"Emperor Protects, sir. Eagle 1 preparing for liftoff."

The engines let out a roaring burst before shifting to a more appropriate level of intensity. The machine spirit either must have been very excited by this, or very annoyed having been awoken like this. Pulling up on the throttle, the Valkyrie ascended into the air, flying out of the guard's room and towards the stairs. Below them, anti-air crews were rushing to their posts as a precaution. Hydras were brought online and flak shells were rolled out from the storehouses to feed their guns.

As expected, the second the Valkyrie dipped below the top of the stairs and on to the first level, they were targeted. First it was just small arms fire, shurikens that peppered the top of the flyer like a heavy hail. These machines were made to fly through far worse, but some of the "luckier" shots that started to hit the cockpit canopy was mildly worrying.

A sudden blast slammed into the wing sending alarms blaring in the cockpit. Fire Dragons had finally got their Fusion Guns online and began blasting into the Imperial flyer as it zig zagged and darted across the floor at low altitude.

"Left wing just took a hit! Flaps are a little sticky, attempting stabilization." The co-pilot began to reroute power and adjust the flaps as stray shuriken shattered a tiny hole in the glass above him.

With some skilled flying and careful threading of the gap, the Valkyrie flew into the laundry room, flood lights cutting through the darkness as its side doors opened. The recon team, still mostly blasting at shadows in the smoke, wasted no time in running to their transports. Both squad leaders rushed their men into safety until Dagger 1 saw something else break through the smoke and come into the Valkyrie's flood lights.

"Wait! Please! Don't leave us!" a pair of Tau scouts panicked as they saw the Imperial flyer about to take off, something hot on their trail, "Gue'vesa! Please!"

The Dagger squad leader gritted his teeth and tried his best to ignore them. Without facing them, he knew exactly what kind of face those blue xenos were making. He could hear it in their desperation as under any other circumstances, they wouldn't be begging to be let on to an Imperial vehicle. Dagger 1 clenched his fist as he put a foot on the deck of the Valkyrie, but he couldn't board. This scene had played out so many times, too many times. He asked himself how many whiteshield rookies did he turn his back on when their trench got overrun? How many men did he leave behind with the lie that help was coming for them. How many more soldiers was he going to abandon to save his own skin? He hated to admit it, but sometimes on long travels through the warp, he could see all of their faces in his dreams asking the same question. Why?

"Graaahh! Dammit!" he cursed as he pushed off the side of the Valkyrie and ran back towards the fleeing Tau, "Cover me, I'm going back for them!"

As he spoke, something rose from the smoke and out of the crack in the door. Its serpentine body gave way to a pair of sharp talons and green eyes that lunged at the squad leader. Ripping into the camo cloak, Dagger 1 was thrown into the air as the monster was bracketed by fire from the Valkyrie. One of the guardsmen had manned the side gun and everyone else poured lasfire, pulse rounds and bolt arrows into its back.

"Dagger 1, what are you doing? Dagger 1!" a voice crackled through the squad leader's helmet. He felt woozy and weak, the right side of his body felt sluggish. Looking down, there was nasty gash in his side that burned, like the flayed bits of his flesh was being burnt. But he was so close to the door. That monster wasn't alone and more of its kind were going to come out.

"Harrack! What the hell are you doing?" one of the guardsmen dropped any sense of formality and called the squad lead by his name.

"Don't worry about me. Just keep that thing off my back." Harrack ripped off his holotags and threw them over to the transport before he pimped his way through the crack and into the garage, "I've got some friends to meet."

With all his remaining strength, the guardsman threw his body weight against the heavy metal door, nudging it close. He could hear something on his commbead but it was getting fuzzy, he wasn't paying much attention to it anyways. A beam of energy slammed next to him, leaving a melted hole in the metal. The chatter of the heavy bolter slamming against the other side and the engines firing up reminded the squad sergeant of the first time he saw the Cadian sunrise from orbit.

The door jammed, Harrack's strength no longer able to push the latch into place. He could hear more chattering on the voxnet and the sound of a lascannon being fired. That thing that threw him in must still be kicking. With no options left, he stepped back and threw himself against the door, trying to force it close. Looking back, he saw long, spindly strands of green energy spew from the cracks in the ground as a legion of eyes lit up the darkness. Gritting his teeth and clutching his bleeding side with his free arm, Harrack threw his body against the heavy metal, each blow a personal act of atonement for him.

_**Click** _

With a final blow, the door shut in place and Harrack slid down onto the floor leaving a dark red streak as he sank. Struggling to get his helmet off, he cast it aside as a figure emerged from the dark sea of green pearls. Distantly, the squad leader could hear the Valkyrie's engines firing back up for flight escaping from his helmet. His brow was slick with sweat and his hair damp with it. He let out a chuckle. He had seen hundreds of men and women die in their first battle and never did a thing. And here he was, dying for the sake of two xenos he didn't even know. Why did he do it? He never really paid much attention to the regimental chaplain's sermons. Maybe it was because he didn't want someone to die in this setting so different from their original? Here he was, shrunken down to the size of a regicide piece, bleeding out against a door on Holy Terra tens of thousands of years before he was even supposed to be born. His record was going to be interesting at least.

"Primitive..." a dark figure carrying a glowing emerald blade stepped in front of him halfway up the ramp, "Lay down your arms and surrender. Your efforts have been most valiant. Protocol demands I give an unarmed foe the opportunity to surrender once all action is completed."

"Sorry, but I still have one more thing I need to do." Harrack struggled to his feed, blood dripping from his side as he stumbled towards the darkness, trying not to trip over his own feet and collapse.

"And what would that be?" there was the slightest intonation of curiosity from the figure as Harrack approached him.

"To do my duty... And die standing." the guardsman pulled out his combat knife before lunging at the figure he could barely see. He swung his blade in a wide ark, aiming for what must have been the side of the thing's head.

_**Tink** _

The knife flew out of Harrack's hand, his grasp weak from blood loss, and landed on the cold ground below.

"Such a valiant display of duty, I must commend you." the figure shot out a boney, silvered hand and grabbed the human's neck, lifting him into the air, "I shall honor your request." With its free hand, the figure thrusted its blade into Harrack's stomach, it's unnatural glow illuminating the wound. Harrack spat out blood as he choked, but before he went limp, he reserved one final spat of blood between the figure's glowing green orbs.

"May you find peace in the Stars, primitive." the figure dropped Harrack's body, letting it collapse into a pile on the ground at his feet. With the same metal hand, the figure ran a skeleton thumb from its free hand across its forehead where Harrack had spat his last breath and rubbed the fluid between its fingers. _Blood._ How... natural. "Surely my lady can make use of this." the figure muttered to itself as it surveyed the legion arrayed before him, standing silent and deathless, waiting for his command.

"Final preparations must be made." the figure dragged the body of Harrack behind them as it melded into the darkness, "Her awakening is soon."


	6. Dynasty I - A Decisive Strike

The night before had been restless and his sleep unpleasant. Max had awoken ahead of his alarm by an uncomfortable margin not by his own alarm, but by the repeated thumps against his door. Rolling himself out of bed and almost on to the floor, he shambled towards his door. His blurry sleep vision hadn't faded by the time he opened it and was very close to stepping on the Land Raider that was bumping its ramp against the very bottom of his bedroom door. Some large congregation had formed outside his door with Max able to make out a few flyers and vehicles. He couldn't tell for sure, half his mind was still asleep and he had an inkling that something happened last night but he could barely remember.

"Sir Maximas there is a-"

"Mon-keigh! We believe you sho-"

"Gue'vesa'o! One of our-"

**Slam**

Max threw his door shut in a swift push. It was too early for this, too early for him to even try to deal with this level of bullshit. He half hearted blurted about giving himself a second through the wooden door as he lumbered towards the master bath. After trying to drown himself in a handful of tap water to wash up and cracking open the bottle of mouthwash to save time, Max found himself back again behind the door. With a deep breath, he readied himself a little and opened the door to the crowd of tiny soldiers. All of these were somewhere between mildly perplexed and moderately annoyed depending on race and station. "Okay, one at a time please..." Max's eyes saw the steady figure of Aun'Phai hover on top of some sort of drone palanquin, "Aun'Phai, you first."

"Thank you Gue'vesa'o." the Ethereal floated up on his palanquin, ignoring the glares from the other faction leaders, "Last night, scouts of the Am'Yun Expedition were peacefully exploring the interior grounds of your gracious estate. However, their mission went awry. Through a chain of events, they are now being kept in Imperial custody after being rescued by one of their transports."

"It wasn't peaceful exploration, it was armed reconnaissance! Your scouts undertook an act of hostility that breached the armistice agreement we all swore xenos!" General Bragana shouted from the top of the Chimea, waving his sword in the air, "Sir Maximas, at 0314 hours last night, we lost contact with some of our own recon units for a short duration. After reestablishing contact, they claimed to have been shot at by Tau infiltrators and another unidentified force with two guardsmen missing in action and one confirmed as KIA."

"General, the only way your troops could have been fired upon would be if they were on the ground floor. In the same armistice agreement, I thought you and your allies had promised to keep your operations and personnel on the second floor. I was given reports that it was one of your men who shot first."

Bragana's lip pursed, causing him to whistle as he sucked air into his tense lungs. He stared daggers at the floating xenos who had the faintest hint of smugness on his stupid blue face. It was impossible to deny the reports and the mission did break the agreement. At the same time, he didn't want to expose his goals behind the mission. The general also refused to throw his subordinates under the grav-tram on principle. He'd drawn that short straw too many times himself.

"Sir Maximas, according to the after mission reports, the team also encountered something else. Something that rose out of the ground in your own home sir. The extraction Valkyrie was just able to take it down and Sgt. Harrack sacrificed himself to save those xenos and seal the door."

"I must commend both the bravery of your troops and the selflessness of the sergeant's actions."

"Yes, yes, thank you for your praise xenos. We were hoping to recover his body, the regimental chaplain thought it fitting to entomb him for his valor, having faced off against the monstrous xeno and sealing its ilk in with him. His duty has been completed and his debt paid; a fine a death as any guardsman could ask for."

"A man who lived an ordinary life, died a hero under extraordinary circumstances. You guardsmen certainly don't lack in courage." Max saw Bragana's mood improve slightly at the praise. The Asian himself was curious as to what siad shrine or tomb was going to look like exactly and when it would be made, the cathedral wasn't finished and most of the guardsmen were living in tents. "I am curious though, do the Eldar have anything to add? I'm surprised you've reserved your side of this story for so long."

"We were waiting for the primitives to finish their own grandstanding." Autarch Faeris hovered on her jetbike along side Ylandin and his seer council, "We do not need words for what we need to say, we can simply show you. Follow us, mon-keigh."

With the Eldar zipping around and ahead of him, Max carefully stepped over the vehicle parade in front of his door. He got a good look at the continuing construction of the Astartes's fortress monastery on his way down. The outer defenses where coming along, a solid wall ran along the edges, bulging out from the cut down metal cans used. Every so often a platform would stick out carrying a stationary weapon with a servitor attached to it. Armed chapter serfs, the Asharn Auxiliary, patrolled the walls and manned what guns couldn't be trusted to a servitor. The central keep was slowly climbing its way into the sky, reminding Max of traditional medieval castles. The theorized that the combination of the limited resources and the more humble nature of the Conservators, their fortress monastery on the Recroom Heights would resemble more the Guard's architecture as opposed to the Sister's gothic marvel.

With some of the more mobile elements of the parade following him down, Max was glad he kept his house so spartan. The floor of the foyer was littered in charred black spots, tiny pot holes and scores of tiny cuts from the Eldar's attempts at shooting down the evac Valkyrie. Had there been carpet or hardwood, it probably would have looked a whole lot worse. Of course, the true surprise was in the laundry room where Max finally got a good look at this monster everyone was talking about.

"A Necron Wraith." Max squatted down and looked at the metallic nightmare serpent, the Eldar Guardians who were guarding it excused themselves but kept their guns trained on it just in case. Even in its deactivated, technically dead state, Max wasn't interested in playing Necron Roulette with it and one of his fingers. He knew well enough of the Resurrection Protocol and combined with its ability to probably just phase through his skin and slash at his internals, the Wraith was easily one of the most dangerous elements of 40k to appear in his home.

"Addendum: Designation is Necron Canoptek Wraith." Mago J-1M had no such reservations and began to poke at it with the hilt of his Omnissian Axe, picking at it with his mechadendrites and studying it intensely with far less care than was probably safe, "Request: Can take for further studies? Necron subjects rare but intriguing."

"We stationed guards to keep watch of it and the door through the night." Faeirs hovered around Max's knees as she stared at General Bragana in his own transport, "It is also the reason why we did not send our own strike craft to harass your transport on its way back. Be thankful mon-keigh."

"Great... An undead legion of Egyptian nightmare murder skeletons in my garage." Max sighed as he surveyed the other signs of battle, the bolter impact hits against the door, the residue left behind, and the tiles that cracked from lasfire. It made him wonder what such weapons could do against his own skin and the conclusions were worrying at the very least. "No one's been in there since last night right? Is there still a chance we can take them out before they fully awaken? Send a raid team, cut off the head, and get out before this becomes a bigger problem?"

"I have been monitoring such a path since the setting of the moon on the horizon." Ylandin's bike appeared behind the Magos who was already performing some rudimentary vivisections on the body of the Wraith using a plasma cutter, "Following this, this path's direction forward is clear: a rapid and swift strike against the Undying. Cut off their vital creations and destroy their slumbering Lord."

"Well, sound solid enough to me. Everyone organize your kill teams and get back here in five minutes. Every second we waste is another the Necrons on the other side of the door could be using to power up."

The crowd dispersed as commanders and leaders went to organize their raid teams. There was a rush of excitement that drew from an eagerness to do battle. Since their arrival and subsequent armistice agreements, few true battles had been taken. Skirmishes and raids sure, but Max was often there to stop it before they could escalate into something bigger. Now, there was a chance to fully commit to a military action with the blessing of the giant human.

Soon, flyers and transports were arriving and off loading their troops. As the three heads of the raid talked tactics. Mangos J-1M advocated for a rapid, but precise strike, hoping to damage as little of the Necron tech as possible for future study. Faeris on the other hand advised a cautious but thorough sweep, destroying anything that could pose a danger or a hindrance. The final leader had come with the kill teams of the Sororitas and the Marines. He wore a brown surcoat with a gleaming, but battered, chest piece and accompanying pauldrons and knee guards. His cloak bellowed majestically in the gust kicked up by the Valkyrie as the ceiling light caught the golden Inquisitorial rosette around his neck.

"Inquisitor Peratix, Ordo Malleus." The Inquisitor bowed before the sitting Max, "I have some experience in dealing with the Necrons during my stint in the Ordos Xenos. I was resupplying with the Sisters of the Argent Chalice when I was dragged into this realm."

"Well met Inquisitor." Max dipped his head in acknowledgement as the man began to converse with the other two leaders. Max himself on the other hand was more curious as to the forces arrayed. Peratix had turned out to be the middle ground between Faeris and J-1M, as was so common in these groups of three. He held little love for the ancient xenos, but knew time was of the essence.

As their leaders talked, the raid force bristled with excitement, nervousness and all of their jittery cousins. The Sisters were leading a small prayer group for the Imperials as the Tau curiously watched on. The Eldar, the living ones anyways, were almost meditating as their Warlock casted War Masks upon them. The Skitarii Rangers were in perfect line formation, awaiting commands, as a squad of Pteraxii flew into the room and another tech priest inspected the Sentinel walker that was just dropped in. Max found it strange how there was a lack of servitors, especially from the Mechanicus. He was informed by the tech priest attending to the Sentinel in a hushed chirp that in their younger years as initiates, both Magos J-1M and H4-NH had served aboard an deathtrap of a ship for the Inquisition. For whatever reason, the two of them had developed an intense loathing and distrust of servitors because of it and both refused to elaborate on the matter.

"It's hardly a standard layout for a tomb, considering it's not a tomb at all." Inquisitor Peratix reviewed the after action report from the previous night's mission on a datapad, "But there are still plenty of obstacles in the way that form features: chokepoints hallways and rough chambers."

"Inform: Report suggests ample open space above. Pteraxii deployment has been authorized." Mago J-1M took one last look at the corpse of the Canoptek Wraith before ordering a pair of Rangers to drag it on to his personal Arvus Lighter for transport back to his lab in binary.

"Excellent thinking. I do think that wraps it up here. Should be a simple get-in-get-out mission Emperor willing."

The three leaders returned to their kill teams as Max stood by the door, waiting for their mark to open it. Inquisitor Peratix returned to his detachment of a mixed chapter Tactical Squad, 6 Sisters and 15 of his personal elite Stormtrooper retinue. Mangos J-1M had assumed control of both the Mechanicus elements (a 10-man Ranger squad, the 5 Pteraxii and an Ironstrider) and the Militarum forces (30 guardsmen, the Sentinel and a psyker). Faeris entrusted her command to a Warlock who led a 5-eldar team of Wraithguard accompanied by their own squad of Dire Avengers. The Tau were given the task of rearguard and sweep up with a squad of Breachers, a squad of Pathfinders and a pair of XV-8s with no commander deemed necessary for this operation.

"Attention!" Inquisitor Peratix shouted over the assembled force and the onlookers behind them, "Beyond this gate is the tomb of an ancient menace! One that has scoured worlds and devoured stars! They are relentless and they are deathless. But they are still weak, not yet roused to full action! Our decisive strike here today can ensure they shall never awake and reap their terrible curse upon this world and this house! Forwards! To victory! Open the gate!"

In Max's honest opinion, the entire force was pretty ragtag and jank, but he really loved the look of all the armies side by side. Just something magical about it with all its collaboration. Only the Imperials really seemed to be moved by the speech, the Eldar completely ignoring it unlike the Tau who politely clapped. Cracking the door open a little, what Max knew as his garage was... significantly altered. His attempt to turn on the light failed, someone must have shot out the lights in the windowless garage. The dull concrete floor had been replaced by a smooth black basalt-like material, cut into perfect geometric shapes by glowing green lines. While Max could make out the shape of boxes and equipment he previously left in there, there were many more structures he didn't recall. Hewn from the same black material, they were like perfect shapes that stood vigil over the surface, breaking the layer of mist on the floor and catching the light from the laundry room.

"Good luck in there." Max opened the door more for the expeditionary force, more and more lights piercing the darkness as they marched in. He turned his head to face the makeshift command center that had popped up on the counter where he kept his detergents. Valkyries loaded with vox equipment sat next to another Tau prefab structure, flown in by a gunship. Operators both human and Tau manned their posts while General Bragana and Commander Skyspirit hunched over a table to study something. The Eldar opted to stay reclusive and simply used their hanging city to house their command center for this operation.

"Thank you Sir Maximas," The Inquisitor looked up as the last of the Tau brought up the backline, "You can leave the operation to us now. We'll handle it and be back soon."

Max looked into the garage again and at all of the kill teams that were now splitting up, going on their own search and destroy missions. Something in his stomach sank and he was reminded of that infamous WW1 picture of "be back before Christmas" as he closed the door.

"Honestly, that's what I'm worried about."


	7. Dynasty II - The Tomb of Apakht

As the door shut with a guttural creek, the kill teams were plunged into darkness with only their lights cutting through the darkness. They made their way through the unliving realm, cautious of every sound that echoed from just around the corner or just down the long hall. Black structures had been raised from the ground, each another piece in a geometric puzzle carved on the ground by the green lights. Slowly, the teams began to split up to cover more ground, venturing deeper into the basalt labyrinth.

Ephemeral ghostly winds blew in, turning into distant echoing as it bounced off boxes and walls, mixing with the sounds of eldritch machinery that sent shivers up the spines of all but the most hardened. Only the disorganized rhythm of footsteps and stomping brought a new noise to the undying realm. A distant chittering brought everyone to a standstill as they raised their weapons for a tense eternity before continuing forward. Paths turned to corridors and became wider, leading to new chambers and areas as the lights on the ground gently hummed with energy. The hydraulics of the Sentinel and the Ironstrider nearly deafened everyone else in the comparative silence as they stomped forward. Eyes were glued to radars and auspexes as above the Pteraxii soared the open space. Their data-tethers to the Magos providing the tech priest information as they went.

The group came across a large circular chamber, its walls were made entirely of the black stone of the floor and the skeleton of a half-finished dome crowned the chamber's ceiling, like the carcass of a long dead beast trapping them. Altars and half-walls formed a natural cross in the room, all leading to a central stele covered in Necron glyphs where the lines on the floor went into as well. The Tau decided this would be the place where they could establish their fallback point to guard and advocated for each of the other kill teams to take one of the other three hallways to explore. The Eldar warlock simply nodded and gracefully brought their team towards the right-most exit. The Inquisitor had to pry the Magos away from the central stele before heading off to the left-most exit. And taking one last look at the structure, Magos J-1M took the remaining middle hallway, his servo-skulls zipping after him once his team left the chamber.

As the teams delved deeper into the garage, they kept their lights closer and frequently checked their backs, the Tau and the Guardsmen especially. But something was off. Sure, they were coming in here to shut down this tomb before it could fully awake, but it was completely empty. The few members even remotely knowledgeable about the ancient aliens all remarked how there should have been constructs that stalked the halls, maintaining and preparing the tomb. And the garage, how had it been transformed so quickly? Something wasn't right and all of the groups walked a little closer together, just in case.

"Gracious visitor…" a deep mechanical voice echoed across the corridors and from every direction, prompting dozens of guns to suddenly be raised and ready to fire, soldiers on a hair-trigger, "You are not welcomed here. Not yet. Leave now, and upon my honor, you will not be harmed."

"Unliving abomination!" the Eldar Warlock cried out from their position, "The Eldar shall do no such thing! We will remove the head of your ancient taint and your presence from this land!"

"Error: Compliance subroutine not found." The Magos order his Skitarii in front of him while the rest of the team took up position to cover both ends of the hallways, "Addendum: Do not attempt request again."

"Very well… Than I, Tazmun the Guardian… the Royal Warden of Izfret… the Lord High Judicator of Apakht… the Makltan of Ash… and Slayer of the Cursed shall deliver you to your ends…!"

The ground shook as the lines on the ground hummed loudly as a wave of light swept through them. Instantly, communications were shorted out as the Skitarii shook violently and the Magos winced behind his hood in an expression of pain. At the temporary HQ's in the laundry room, chaos erupted as both the Tau and the Imperials lost their connection to the teams inside. Operators attempted to reconnect and find a signal while the tech priests began to recite litanies and hymns to the vox-casters and the signal antenna. The Eldar had a slight idea of what was going on thanks to psychic messaging, but it was faint and heavily distorted, like trying to wade through a sea of TV static to find a fish.

On the other side of the garage door, the tomb began to shift. Walls moved and rose from the ground; barriers shifted and sank into the wall; pylons cracked above the skyline and let loose an alien energy. Wall panels dropped down to reveal row upon row of Necron Warriors who slowly crawled out to defend the tomb. Gunfire erupted across all the teams as they tried to make their retreat back to the original circular chamber and return across the gate. Soldiers began to fall, shrieking in pain as their flesh was stripped away and they crumbled like ash on the floor, not even leaving bones.

"Alpha Prioris Request: Pteraxii direct us a path." The Magos ordered his flying soldiers above to stop firing and direct them through the shifting maze of black and green.

"Come on people, we are moving!" Inquisitor Peratix roared as his team began an orderly withdrawn, laying down fire as they moved, "Wait I have an idea. Anyone here have a melta bomb?"

"Warriors of Belethann! To me!" the Warlock called out to the Eldar under his control, quickly regrouping them to try and find a way out with the (limited) help of the Seers back in the ceiling city.

There was little cover to be found in the shifting black halls. And what could be found either soon moved away of its own accord, or was blasted away by the oncoming Necron tide. The sound of even more machines awakening drove the teams to move faster as Wraiths appeared out of the wall, grabbing at and slicing at the soldiers running by. The Inquisitor was nearly brought low by one, dodging out of the way as the blades carved a line into his armor. Without missing a beat, the Stormtroopers stood still for a second to take aim and snap a shot into the construct, distracting it long enough for the Inquisitor to gut it with his sword.

"Clear the blast zone!" the Space Marine sergeant armed his melta bomb and threw it at the obsidian wall. A bright light followed by a burst that rang out across the entire tomb.

"Go! Go! Everyone into the hole!" The Inquisitor's team trickled through the newly created door, each person to go through either clearing the path forward or laying covering fire for those yet to come through.

With the echoing boom behind them, the Magos's team continued to follow the Pteraxii like sailors following birds. Several guardsmen had been killed and most of the Rangers having been reduced to twitching electronics and machinery crushed under the necrodermis foot of oncoming warriors. The Sentinel was turned into a standing fireball as its cabin was blown apart by a Doomsday Ark before it collapsed on the ground. The Ironstrider rode ahead of the main force, but was also found destroyed as the group rounded the corner.

"Go back! Go back! Take the other hall!" one of the Guardsmen screamed as the entire force faced down a Canoptek Doomstalker, its skeletal legs taller than the high walls and its gaze fixed on the burning wreck of the Ironstrider before shifting to the guardsmen.

"Alpha Prioris Request: Psyker support!" the Magos watched as the fleshy Imperials flooded back into the hall. Clicking and whirring, he brought up his own Plasma Culverin to fire around the corner as the pysker calmly walked up.

Only ever known as "Mask", no one knew who the pysker was under flowing robes they always wore. Some of the more creative guardsmen claimed they were a psyhic servitor or a penitent witch or just pure energy under robes. It didn't help that Mask never spoke either, instead relying on their trademark mask to make a variety of facial expressions that seemed to have grown since Max introduced anime to the Imperial regiments. It was the great shame of Bragana that some of the Imperials enjoyed it more than even the Tau. As the warp bent around the shadowy figure, the guardsmen could see their hands shake, clearly whatever the Necron activated to block their vox was also influencing them. Lightning tore through the air, striking the towering walker and disrupting the charging of its main weapon. Within seconds, a bolt of plasma slammed into the body, fired from Magos J-1M's culverin.

Knowing when a giant evil machine was distracted, the Guardsmen took the opportunity to run out of cover. Some of the closer ones even threw krak grenades at the feet of the thing, hoping to at least cut it down. The remaining Skitarii stood and fired at the giant walker alongside their Magos until they were cut down.

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

"Left side! Left side!" The Tau Breacher squad ran across the raised platform in the entry chamber and took cover behind the low cover of the altars and walls. They fired into the darkness, relying entirely upon marker lights. The rapid blasts of the XV-8s shredded through another group of warriors, only for them to start crackling and rise again after only a second of breath.

"Do these things ever die?!" One of the younger Pathfinders cried out as a gauss shot barely missed his head.

A blast sent every Tau spinning their heads and aiming their guns at the newly minted hole in the wall. One of the Shas'ui sergeants had to tackle one of their underlings before they tried to pop a shot at the Marine who came first out of the smoke. Immediately they recognized the figures as one of the Imperial teams. Returning to their overwatch and trying to put down some very stubborn Necrons, the leading battlesuit jumped over to the Inquisitor, "Gue'vesa, what is going on? The ground suddenly shook and these metal beings shot at us."

"They're called Necrons but now's not the time for a history lesson, we need to regroup everyone and get back out. This mission is lost, we aren't equipped to handle an awaken tomb." The Inquisitor looked back at what was left of his battered kill team. Half the Sororitas were dead along with a third of his Stormtroopers. The Marines held up well but one of them had been ripped apart by… something. "Scions! Get to the front and help the xenos hold the line."

"I thought this was a dormant tomb." The battlesuit pilot watched as blue-armored humans rushed to fill in the gaps in the line next to the Tau fire warriors. A pair of Marines were kept at the breaching hole, firing into the mist with their massive rifles.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

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A guardsman looked around the corner with a small mirror he carried specifically for this purpose. Way was all clear. He nodded to the other guardsmen stacked up behind him and rounded the corner, lasgun leveled and pointed down the corridor. The other guardsmen wasted no time in pushing down the hall, some pressing into wall cut outs and aiming their own weapons just in case. With the coast mostly clear, Magos J-1M brought up the last rearguard, Mask the pysker leaning against him as they hobbled along.

"Query: Are you functional?" the Magos's Omnisian Axe thumped the ground with every step, the Pteraxii still flying above.

Mask's face lit up with "x.o"; the Magos took it as a sign of "wounded but functional".

"Inform: We should be close to the main chamber. The path is laid before me."

Just as the Magos spoke those words and took another step forward, a stream of Necron energy beams shot into the air, cutting most the flying troops into charred, crispy ribbons as their remains plummeted to the ground. Only one was spared but they soon disappeared out of the sky.

"Addendum: I have all the information needed to traverse this tomb from the Pteraxii ariel logs."

"Monkeigh!" the voice of the Eldar Warlock caused about a dozen lasguns to be pointed in his direction to which the Wraithguard and Avengers responded by raising their own weapons, "Don't shoot us! Save your primitive arms for the unliving."

"Affirmation: Agreed. The Omnissiah's holy weapons are only to be against the enemies of his divine will." The mild tone of disgust in the Warlock's voice was only matched by the sourness in J-1M's monotone. Neither side lowered their weapons. In fact, more guardsmen raised their weapons and Mask glared at the Eldar with a ":T" on their face.

"How much longer are we going to play this game you metal monk—"

_**BBRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMM** _

A wraith began to poke its head out of the wall and it took its ancient mind a second to register what was going on. One second later, it was filled with some hundred odd holes and scorch marks as the top half popped out of the wall and the other half left to die within it.

"Inform: We need to get moving. I have already found the location of the other group." Magos J-1M began to lead the guardsmen and Mask towards the central chamber, not really caring that the Eldar was following them with a minimal amount of distance.

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Inquisitor Peratix was beginning to wish that he paid more attention to his dueling lessons. Lychguard appeared down one of the hallways and to ensure the firing line didn't get overrun, he led a heroic charge against the elite wardens of the Necrons with the Space Marines. However, too many long nights grasping at leads and reliance on his underlings for melee meant that his skills were left lacking. The Lychguard's shield proved a great annoyance and their blades faster than you'd think a metal skeleton would be able to swing it. Locking blades with the warrior, Peratix growled as his foot tried to dig into the hard, black ground.

"Face our fury, xenos!" a Space Marine roared, revving his chainsword as he cut into the distracted Lychguard's side with brutal results, sending sparks and loose metal flying.

The two shared a nod of thanks before the Marine engaged in battle once again. Peratix looked around and saw the multicolored beams of munitions and trails of rockets fly down the two remaining halls. A sister attended to the wounded Pretaxii Alpha who fell out of the sky who was twitching and gurgling some strange oily substance out of his mouth. The Inquisitor silently admitted to himself that it was probably a terrible idea to try and lead something like this. The most he ever commanded was his own retinue and even when he had larger forces, he typically only gave big orders to the commanders and let them do their thing. And now he had wasted the Emperor's currency. It was hard for him not to feel a tinge of shame.

"Guest of honor…" a familiar voice echoed past Peratix, but instead of being all over, it only came from one direction, "The tenacity of your followers is admirable…"

"I don't need compliments from you, xenos." Peratix raised his sword again and looked just beyond the Lychguard, another figure had made his appearance known. His bronze necrodermis was ornate, decorated with etched symbols and glowing glyphs around his collarbone. Pauldrons of turquoise trimmed with silver fastened a scale cloak of tiny coffins, each bearing the symbol of a fallen dynasty. Its eyes glowed a vivid amethyst from within its bone white head and in its armored clutches it carried a glaive of beautifully ancient construction. Tazmun had decided to personally intervene. The Lychguard fought their opponents back, clearing a path for their leader straight to Peratix.

"But surely you appreciate it..." The Royal Warden swung his blade in a swift upward motion, gutting a charging Marine from groin to neck. As the Marine's innards spilled out on the ground, Tazmun levelled his glowing glaive at the Inquisitor, eyes glowing with the fires of battle. "Come, I challenge you to a trial of personal combat…"


	8. Dynasty III - Retreat and Reclamation

"No." the Inquisitor flatly replied, relaxing his stance as an awkward silence formed despite the raging battle behind them.

"..."

"No...?" Tazmun, rediscovering the concept of confusion for the first time in a few million years, lowered his weapon in disbelief, "Honored foe... what do you mean, no...?"

"I'm not going to duel you! Your Lychguard are hard enough! And you also just sliced open that Marine like canned meat!" Peratix pointed at the dead Conservator, laying in a crimson pool of viscera just behind Tazmun.

As the Necron turned back to look at his most recent kill again, Peratix decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Making a break back towards the defensive line, he dove into cover while ordering some of the Sororitas and Stormtroopers to open fire. The still slightly bewildered Royal Warden was an easy target for the hail of lasfire and bolt rounds that came after him. Unfortunately, being an easy target didn't mean being an easy kill. Sparks flew off his exquisitely decorated necrodermis chest, as he calmly emanated an aura of anger from his unmoving metal face.

_**PZZZTT** _

A bright blue ball of plasma streaked across the hall, slamming into Tazmun's back and charring some of the scales on his metallic cape. Mangos J-1M readjusted his aim as Guardsmen and Eldar rushed forward, letting loose with lasguns and shuriken catapults, "Acknowledgement: Thank you for the distraction, Inquisitor."

"Thanks..." The Inquisitor sheepishly pretended he hadn't just tried to save himself from dying gloriously in melee combat for the Emperor against an unliving champion many lifetimes older than him.

Caught between two incoming forces with more of his Lychguard being cut down, Tazmun weighed his options. Absent mindedly deflecting an incoming bolt with a flick of his glaive, a panel in the wall opened up to reveal a crackling green portal.

"Warriors… return to me!" a slightly more feminine voice rang out and echoed across every hall and chamber, "Work still must be done!"

Without a word, Tazmun stepped in and disappeared in a flash of green light. One by one, the Lychguard disengaged from whatever combat they were in and followed their leader through the portal except for the last one whose body was melted into slag courtesy of Magos J-1M's patented plasma weight loss program.

The panel seamlessly slid back into place with nothing to suggest it was ever anything different. Slowly, a fog rose from the ground and began to cover the battlefield. Shots were fired through what was a thin mist at first, but as it increased in density, non-power armored soldiers began to stick to cover more while flashlights proved ineffectual in trying to pierce the fog. As the green arcs of energy began to disappear, the expeditionary forces slowed their own return fire as most could barely see beyond the entrances at this point. And then, the tomb was silence once more saved for the humming of eldritch machinery and the bated breaths of nervous soldiers who could hear their hearts pounding in their chests, still filled with adrenaline and waiting for another attack.

The guardsmen from the Magos's group filled holes in the defensive lines just in case as auspexes, helmets and scanners flipped through a dozen different filters to scan out the area. Medics began to perform light first aid on those who could still be saved and administering stims to those who kept their weapons trained at the long halls that were filled with Necron legions a few moments ago.

"I... I think they're all gone sir." one of the Guardsmen looked over to Inquisitor Peratix, who gently poked a wound he just realized he had, while still keeping his lasgun aimed down the corridor.

"We also cannot detect anything on our own scanners either." a Tau battlesuit reported with a Conservator Marine reporting the same, "If we are to withdraw, I recommend we do it now with haste."

"Affirmation: Casualties statistics high. Recommendation: Withdraw and reorganize." the Magos lowered his massive plasma gun and began to examine his chassis; he'd need to get them replaced. Had he still been fully flesh, the holes and burns his robotic body now possessed would have easily killed him, "Addendum: Intel inadequate, 91% chance root of mission failure."

"Mon-keigh! What are you insinuating?" the Warlock stopped over, staring down (technically up) at the metal mon-keigh who stood at least a head taller than him.

"Acknowledgement: Intel suggested small Necron presence. Report: Large Necron presence."

"Had your primitive minds not been so impetuous and eager for self-destruction, this operation could have been a success. Need I remind you the entire reason we are entangled in this is because BOTH of you primitives tried to expand beyond your ability and awoke the unliving?"

"Query: Self Destruction? Irony: Noted."

With that, the expedition devolved into bickering and arguments. The Eldar were blamed for their faulty foresight in that told them they would only need small kill teams and not proper armies. The Imperials were blamed for poor coordination and using a Magos and an Inquisitor, both of whom had little experience in leading anything larger than a retinue from afar, as commanders. And the Tau were accused of cowardice for not advancing forward with the rest and instead staying behind. Voices were raised and so were guns. Mask's mask lit up with a ":O" face as they raised their staff in preparation to smack someone with it.

**BANG**

"SILENCE." The Inquisitor roared and pointed his bolt pistol at the Sororitas who was already aiming at one of the remaining Wraithguard, "Sister, you pull that trigger and you will get the guardsmen-commissar experience of a lifetime. Now, things have gone sideways, and we can either stay here, hope the Necrons don't come back and kill each other. Or we can leave while we still can and get a proper force in here to purge everything. The Tau had a good idea, regardless of the intent of their actions before, I suggest we all start to do it."

One of the guardsmen began to raise his voice in opposition, but Peratix placed a bolt between his feet without looking to shut him up. With the dead silence of the tomb complex, the expedition carefully and cautiously retraced their way back to the garage door while trying to raise comms. There were as many guns pointed at the walls as there were at someone else.

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Max flinched as the oil jumped out of the crackling hot pan, carefully trying not to get any on to his hand while removing the bacon. Assured by the forward operating bases that he did not need to intervene, Max went off to make some food. Eargerly watching the human pull out the large strips of fried meat, the Kroot watched with wide eyes and hungry mouths. Previously, the Shapers had forbidden the consumption of "bacon" out of fears it would lead to evolutionary dead ends. Max however, convinced them otherwise and that prohibition only ever increased illicit demand. Now, the Shapers just pretended not to notice the conga line of Kroot who waited at the shuttle port that made regular journeys to the other part of the Tau settlement that was built along the kitchen half wall whenever Max brought out that plastic pack of bacon.

"Here you go, enjoy. It's still hot so be careful." Max pushed the plate of bacon over and immediately the crowd of Kroot descended upon it, ripping chunks of the still sizzling meat.

"Mon-keigh!" Ylandin flew past Max's face on a jetbike as he began to clean up his stove, "The expedition into the tomb of the unliving would appear to request your assistance in opening the gate."

Leaving the Kroot to munch on their meal, Max made his way to open the garage door. He looked to the counter and saw all the tiny soldiers rush around, still attempting to reconnect to the expedition team. The Guard had already brought down a pair of flyers and a medical team, presumably just in case of the worst-case scenario. Moving past, Max cracked open the door enough to let the teams out and took a sharp inhale that caused him to shiver when he saw what remained come out.

First came the Eldar, their proud demeanor lessened as the Warlock led the remaining Wraithguard back to their Hanging Realm, a bundle of soul stones in its arms. Next came the Inquisitor, clutching at his side and clearly hopped up on some sort of stimulant to get by, shaking ever so slightly as he boarded a Valkyrie. Some of the stormtroopers and sisters had to be carried over shoulders or by less wounded pairs out before medical teams rushed to them. The lone Tau battlesuit's jump jets spluttered and sparked as it leapt out of the darkness and almost collapsed onto the ground upon landing.

Tau ground troops and Imperial Guardsmen carried their comrades and each other over their shoulders out to be laid out. Max felt a lump travel down his throat as he counted too many missing limbs and too many tiny soldiers laying perfectly still to be a good sign. At the very end, the rest of the Imperials hobbled out. The Magos made his way over to the Inquisitor's valkyrie, slower than Max remembered as the Space Marines were the last to leave. They bore some truly crippling injuries, missing limbs, huge burns and shattered armor that did not bode well for the flesh underneath. But they stoically marched on normally as if nothing happened and minimal signs of pain or discomfort.

The room was filled with a frenzy as Max closed the door. The moans and groans of the wounded filled the air as medical teams nearby rushed to patch the wounded. Those with more severe injuries were being taken aboard transports and rushed to whatever proper medical facilities each race possessed. The truly horrifying, were those that had to be left to die, their wounds too fatal to be treatable and the doctor's time too valuable to be wasted on them. Without thinking, Max bolted out of the room and grabbed his first aid kit from his kitchen and began to open it up.

He set the box of basic medical supplies on the ground and opened when he realized that all of his stuff was too big for the miniature medis to use. A single band aid would have completely covered someone. The alcohol pads were more suited for cleaning vehicles than to be used topically.

His eyes widened as he took another sharp, uncomfortable breath while his hand shook; there was nothing he could do to help. For all his effort to try and give these lost peoples a new home on his own, he could do nothing but watch. The mon-keigh titan, the Gue'vesa'o, Sir Maximas, for all the strength he had compared to the people under his roof, he couldn't help them in this time. Leaving the first aid kit on the floor, Max rose to his feet and silently shuffled his way on to his couch.

His heart skipped a beat when he thought of all the soldiers who didn't make it out. Those who had to be left in the darkness, begging out to whatever god they prayed to save them or crying out for their parents like lost children. Running his hands through his hair, Max tried to keep his calm, taking deep breaths that clawed their way out of his throat.

"You are distressed. You possess so much strength, yet not the strength to help the wounded." Ylandin appeared on his jetbike on the coffee table and dismounted, "Your spirit cries because your body cannot."

"Thanks, as if I didn't know." Max glared at the Farseer and hissed, "Any other wise insights?"

"I can see it in your mind, you feel responsible for the failure of today. To you, oaths are made of stone and not easily broken, but now you see the rubble that comes with it."

"You know, you would really, really suck as a therapist or counsellor."

Ylandin took off his helmet and looked up at Max, showing his face for the first time, "The burden of responsibility is heavier than entire worlds. But that is why so few can wield it. One of your conditions for not fighting was to keep everyone fed and safe. And today you have failed one condition."

"And what about you? Don't you feel any responsibility for this? With your future predictions? Or are you going to find a way to blame everyone but the Eldar." Max snapped back.

"Even under the most ideal circumstances, the future is unclear and ever moving. Seeing the correct path is not always the same as starting on the correct path. And having been displaced so far from my own has only made it harder."

"So, you don't feel responsible?"

"I am a Farseer. I don't feel responsible for what happens to those under me, I am responsible for what happens to those under me. I can see a thousand paths before me, but I cannot see which path is always the correct one, nor which paths have already begun. Yet my people look to me to find such a golden path."

Max got up and walked over to the sliding glass door that led out to his backyard porch and leaned against it. There was a surprising amount of dead birds and animals outside, maybe a sign from the universe. He took another deep breath, as the Farseer came to join him on his bike. The Kroot on the countertop quizzically looked over at the pair from their perch, trying not to push each other off trying to listen in.

"Max, a lesson I once had to learn is that when leading warriors, you will always come back with less than you set out with. Even in victory. To walk along the edge of the blade is to be sliced by it. I am sure that all the commanders here have had to learn such a lesson. To dwell on each lost soul is a weakness none of us could afford in our daily struggles before."

"Does that weakness mean you can't feel compassion towards the soldiers?"

Ylandin opened his mouth before closing it, closing his eyes to think as to what to say next, "Your heart is heavy because you believe you cannot help. Let me show you otherwise, follow."

Following the jetbike, Max walked under the Hanging Realm of the Eldar, its bridges and paths filled with rushing figures tending to the wounded or whatever other tasks they performed by Christmas lights. Entering back into the laundry room, Max watched as the first aid kit he had brought out had a chain of soldiers hauling things out of it like a chain of ants. Sterile cloth and band aids were cut into more usable bandages. A Tau medic and a techpriest tried to figure out what each ancient Terran pill did what and which would be safe for Xenos biology. The tube of burn bream had been thrown over by a pair of Wraithguard who were now rolling the end to push out small squirts to be used as limited remedy for gauss burns.

"An inability to intervene does not remove the ability to assist." Ylandin faced Max who first looked stunned but slowly warmed his smile.

Without saying a word, Max dropped to his knees and began to pull items out of the first aid kit while informing the Tau and the techpriest about what pills did what. Although too large to personally involve himself in any of the actual treatment, Max brought over cups of fresh water for not only the wounded, but also the doctors and the FOB operators. He even managed to bring over an empty pre-built Tau habitat so there was a slightly more sterile place to tend to wounds. Slowly, the wounded were triaged and delivered back to their bases along with the dead bodies. In their place, command staff and army clerks filled up the countertop, bringing more equipment with them.

A fire for vengeance had been lit and whatever infighting happened in the garage gave way for it. This time, the commanders took center stage as they planned the operation. It was unanimously agreed that the Necrons could not be left alone in the garage. General Bragana was in favor of an overwhelming assault from the outside launched from the driveway. After Max informed him that he had no way of opening the garage from the outside, the Eldar proposed a series of lightning raids that targeted specific components to whittle away the Necrons. That plan was soon thrown out as it would be slow at best and a repeat of what just happened at worse.

Ultimately, it was decided that a modified version of Bragana's idea would be used: an invasion launched from the laundry room. They had ample knowledge of the layout and environment of the garage-turned-catacomb and the number of surprises they would face was significantly less. After the door was opened, artillery would fire in, providing a covering bombardment for mechanized units to rush in and form a beach head. Foot troops would then join them and form a multi-layered assault; each unit would have another unit a short distance behind them to prevent ambushes by Necrons too spooky to adhere to normal laws of physics like everyone else.

"So, the plan is set and we're all in agreement?" the Grand General looked up from the holotable with a projection of the garage's new layout slowly spinning to see several nodding heads, "Excellent. We will meet back here at sundown. Now go, make your preparations and drill your soldiers, we have some ancient skeletons who need our help being put back to rest. Oh, and Sir Maximas?"

"Yessss?" Max's eyes met with Bragana's as both of them had a slight grin appear on their face, their minds clearly on the same wavelength.

"Titans of the Legio Titanicus are typically beyond my authority to request but they provide excellent vision and possess potent combat abilities along with being unparalleled morale boosters."

Max lowered his face and dropped his voice just a little into his "serious" tone with a devilish smile.

"Terran-class Titan, Gloriana Maxima has accepted your request. Standing by for tasking."


	9. Dynasty IV - Battle of the Black Chamber

With orders received and plans organized, the dice were cast as the gears of war began to turn ever faster as the invasion neared. Production lines whirred to life as men and machines were mustered, another (slightly more restrained) wave of excitement washed over the miniature peoples. Before, such activation of industry could be seen as an escalation of tensions and a direct violation of the Armistice Agreement, now it was mobilized at the direct order of everyone, even Max. Reserves were called up, soldiers were drilled and tanks were readied as their finest hour came ever closer.

In the Hanging Realm, Eldar Bonsingers and artisans preformed their crafts in with the trance-like grace and perfection of the School of Alsethryan. Max had learned from Ylandin that the whimsical, mystical humming that sometimes filled his foyer was from this school of thought that the craftsmen of Belethann followed, listening to psychic songs that put them in a heightened "working trance". Max himself felt his mind relaxing slightly and his senses sharpening a little as he walked under the growing web of ledges and suspended platforms, the sound of a thousand running feet adding its own beat to the hypnotic tone of the Sons of Alsethryan. Aspect Warriors either meditated or preformed group exercises perfect synchronization like warrior monks in a monastery while Warlocks casted War Masks on the Guardians who had mustered.

Where as the Eldar had expanded in a very natural, almost fluid pattern that snaked its way along the ceiling, the Tau's city of New Am'Yun had expanded rapidly day by day beyond just the dining table. Platforms had been build to connect the tabletop to the two nearest walls, pillars and additional layers all the way down. Its growing skyline house much of the civilian life of the settlers with housing, services and administration. The underside of the table boasted some impressive engineering as squared off stalactites hung upside-down, their supporting pillars linking them and the tabletop with the military district on the ground. Everything the Tau built was in neat, orderly blocks and squares, the obviously well prepared civilian planners of the expedition spearheading the unrivalled growth of the Tau. Firing ranges, barracks, battlesuit bays, shuttle pads and other support buildings were kept awash in bright lights from the hanging structures above them. As expected, soldiers were getting lectures in an open amphitheater-like building with drones providing holographic images of everything from Necron Warriors to Tomb Layouts, members of the kill team who made it back providing their own insights at regular intervals on stage.

Walking by them on his way to the kitchen, Max saw how the Tau also commandeered his living room coffee table and turned it into some sort of digital training course. Through an ingenious mix of projectors and drones, the Tau Earth-caste had managed to set up a holographic replica of the garage-tomb. Commanders and what Max identified as the survivors of the failed scouting expedition, returned to the Tau from their Imperial captivity, stood above the entire simulation on a floating platform, watching as squads with dummy rounds navigated and blasted holographic projects of Necrons. Every so often, one of the survivors would make note of an inconsistency and the holograms would shift to match. Max was certain that the team currently in the course didn't appreciate the Wraith that burst through the wall. A sort of rest and waiting area had been set up on a nearby couch, regular round trips of Devilfish transports ferrying Firewarriors to and from the simulator area back to the military district.

With the bag from the kitchen cabinet in his hand, Max poked his head into the laundry room before returning upstairs. No longer just a slapdash collection of communication arrays, the forward operating bases had been completely overhauled. An enclosed command bunker sat in the center of a nexus of dedicated communication rooms, landing pads, medical facilities, storehouses and even a quaint little crew lounge, each connected to each other like magnetized terrain via walkways covered with tarps. Its setup was as much about efficiency and easy of movement as it was about defensibility with Max clearly able to see firing positions and clearly marked fields of fire. Heavy duty radars, once reserved by the factions to spy on each other through walls, were carried in and turned towards the wall connecting the room to the garage, scanning for movement behind it. Clutter had been moved into a corner to provide as much room as possible for landing pads that were little more than a circle of blinking lights or even a ring of blue laundry detergent. A skeleton of an elevator lift had been set up to connect the upper command center with the additional facilities and emplacements on the ground but even then, a pair of Arvus Lighters had to be used for transport. Quartermasters and clerks were running around and shouting for artillery shells to be sorted, spare parts to be delivered, equipment to be checked and a dozen other things that made an invasion of this scale possible.

Pulling out and heading up the stairs, Max was careful not to step on any Imperial vehicles that were making their way down the makeshift upside-down-mirror-and-plastic-bin-lid ramp that was held together by prayer and happy thoughts as it was with tape and cardboard. The steep incline of the ramp was a point of worry for Max and despite assurances from the drivers, he still had a spare blanket fluffed up against the wall just in case someone lost control. A steady line of vehicles made their way up and down, displaying the impressive abilities of both their brakes and engines, along with the occasional flyer that flew above them. As he mounted the steps, Max noticed how many more of the flyers were clearly not Imperial in origin.

At the top of the steps, the first thing Max noticed was the ambiance chanting and the scent of incense. While still incomplete, the Conservator's Fortress Monastery atop the Recroom Heights hosted a large and colorful mass of Marines in its great hall. All where kneeling with heads facing down at the plastic floor as the Chaplain paced back and forth, chanting pre-battle rites and litanies of devotion. With only a few of the rust-colored Conservators in the group, Max deduced that it was likely some sort of exercise done to help the other, disparate battle brothers of other chapters who found their way to Max's house to bond. To make the High Gothic litanies, the chattering of binary hymns rose from the chapter's Techmarines as they worked in their forge. Max had donated a large metal wash bin some time ago and it had since become the home of the Master of the Forge, a constant stream of Techmarines, servitors and acolytes going in an out before venturing to the armory or motor pool. The hammer blows that rang out from the upturned bin, now covered in banners and Mechanicus symbols, formed a steady beat when combined with the rhythm of Marines doing bolter drills at the range or the clanging of blades in from the Marines in the Paper Plates of Dueling.

_**BWOOM** _

The sound of a Basilisk letting loose brought Max over to Guard's room as they did their best to practice the fine art of artillery gunnery in their limited space. They fired across a specially designated empty stretch of land at a large wooden board with painted targets and some ratty old shirts just to give extra padding. The growing network of roads and paths had to specifically make their way around the area that stretched almost the entire width of the room; winding paths leading to the Lego brick bunkers or the tent city that was still standing. One on end of the road network was the Bedframe Plateau, its own network of production lines and conveyor belts feeding into a dozen different machines or specialist workshops with Techpriests and menial hunched over at random intervals. Max watched as the last supply crate was loaded into a Sallot-marked Goliath truck before it was lowered to the ground from the bedframe by a lift and rumbled down one of several converging paths, behind the Basilisks, and making a quick stop by one of the command buildings to pick up passengers before it disappeared down the stairs.

The Guardsmen shared some practices with the Tau based on more practical matters of military theory. They were going through their own drills and training lectures, squad-level tactical exercises and even their own much more privative training course which seemed to involve a large empty storage bin, a heavily obscuring blindfold, several shoddy looking cardboard targets, a low-powered lasgun and servoskulls playing an OST's worth of sound effect and background noise. In a similar way, commanders watched from an elevated position, looking through the clear plastic at the troopers going through "obscuring training". It was a Steel Legion commander, Major Lorian Menatat, who was leading the exercises along with survivors of both the scouting mission and the kill team. Every so often, Major Menatat would excuse himself to take a message from Lord Commissar Basklow who was in charge of logistics and numbers. For everything that the Grand General could do, Bragana was infamously terrible with math and numbers, claiming "severe mental imparement" when seeing too many of them. As Max prepared to leave the room, he could hear some troops singing the familiar tune of "Its a Long Way to Tipperary" that he often hummed, although with their own twist on the lyrics:

_Its a long way, to Holy Terra,_

_Its a long way, to go._

_Its a long way, to Holy Terra,_

_To the only God I know!_

_Goodbye, Armageddon!_

_Farewell Cadia!_

_Its a long long way to Holy Terra,_

_But my soul's right there!_

Looking into the Sister's room made Max instantly cough as his nose scrunched up as if he had just been blasted in the face by a Gothic Fabreeze spray bottle. The scent of incense, previously just a faint note on the upper landing with the Space Marines, hung heavy in the Sister's room along with the scent of burning wax candles and actual Fabreeze (Lavender, the only one Max had in his house). Compared to the Fortress Monestary of the Marines, the Cathedral of the Blessed Emperor Ascendant had seen exponential construction. Rays of sunlight from the windows illuminated the beautiful stained plastic "glass" windows, depicting scenes of miracles, the Emperor and the largest of all the pieces that stood as the main focal point in in the cathedral behind the alter: Saint Joyane. Crafted from a hundred different pieces, each carved of a bottle or Tupperware lid, it was a stunning depiction of the Order's patron saint, Saint Joyane, in her most iconic scene when she slew the thrice-damned, warp-tainted, witch-born Arch Heretic Wraelmic the Winged by piercing his blackened heart with a flag pole sharpened into a lance.

Once he had acclimated to the smell, Max wasn't suprirsed to find most of the sisters in prayer; their melodic hymns and holy verses floating out of the top of the unroofed cathedral. Without the need to follow traditional building requirements, the Sisters had taken the perfectionist approach to constructing their cathedral. Every wall had plastic stained glass or a tapestry and every alcove had some relic or art. They had even decided to use a whitewash paint that reminded Max of what old castles apparently looked like. Those who weren't in divine contemplation had decided to put their faith in their own combat preparations of bolter drills and armor upkeep. He hadn't noticed it at first, given the sheer number of other extraordinary things going on, but Max had finally started realizing how different the Sisters of the Order of the Argent Chalice looked from the traditional image of a Sororitas. While a good deal still boasted similar armor, others looked much more like knights with artistically embroidered capes, ornate headdresses, the bio-engineered horses they rode to battle, the flaming Hunting Lances they carried and even their very emblem. It honestly reminded Max of an order of female Bretonnian Grail Knights, a realization that made a lot more sense with the castle-like cathedral they were building and the concept of a grail/chalice-like object being at the core of the Order's identity.

Excusing himself and leaving the minis behind, Max found himself alone in his room with only the faintest sounds of preparations from outside breaching the walls. With everyone else gearing up for the invasion, Max thought that he should do the same. Over the course of the next few hours, the man "armored up" in what ways he could. With the help of a reference image, he cut out a piece of cardboard and painted it to look like the face plate of an Imperator-class Titan, attaching it to a hockey mask from an old Halloween costume. He double upped on his pants, padding them and attaching an additional layer of cardboard around, feeling confident in only his legs being vulnerable. Its actual effectiveness as armor was highly debatable, being painted cardboard and all, but it certainly made Max feel more protected and stronger. After some time, he was finally all geared up: mask on, armor equipped and the fire extinguisher at his side. Carrying the bag from the kitchen in his free hand, he made his way down to the laundry room and smiled under his mask at the sight of the massive force arrayed on the floor. The hundreds of soldiers, each with their own colors and heraldry and their vehicles marked with battle scares and paintjobs acquired over years of service made Max's inner fanboy squee just a little.

"Armies on Parade eat your hearts out." Max chuckled as he made his way over to the counter.

Each unit of each army was organized based on masking tape squares in the ground that marked out where they were to stand before the invasion commenced, a practice Bragana often used for parade march practices. The Guard and the Tau made up the bulk of the spearhead and the frontline, the transports open for them to embark at a moment's notice. The Sisters and the Eldar were kept as flanking and holding units to quickly fill any gaps while the Space Marines were kept in strategic reserve in their Rhinos on the ground and Drop Pods on the counter. Before they set off to battle however, Max opened up the half full bag of chocolate chips from the kitchen and a new wave of commotion washed over the crowd. He thought it would be a nice treat, Max read somewhere that soldiers were given nice meals before battles and thought that sweets would be an acceptable substitute. With squad sharing chocolate chips the size of their heads, Bragana appeared on top of a Chimera with his general staff behind him and some of the Xenos leaders behind him as well.

"Attention! Beyond this door is an evil which has slumbered for untold eons! Beyond this gate is an ancient horror of antiquity, born a million years before even our ancestors. Beyond this barrier is a foe who can shatter stars and harvest worlds! But today, beyond this gateway to the dark void of hell is, is our victory day! We know their tricks, we know their abilities and more importantly: We. Know. They. Can. Be. Killed! Their numbers may be legion, but our armies are greater! We carry the light of the Emp- erm... We carry the light into that darkest of realms and its souless abhorrents which dares to taint this holy ground! Burn away this shadow of ages past with fire and with sword! The Necrons claim to know no fear. But today we shall make them know it well! Sir Maximas! Open the gate! Guardsmen! Ready on my mark!"

Cheering broke out once again, arms and guns thrown into the air, mostly from the Guard and the Tau. The Eldar and the Marines made minimal signs of intensity with the Sisters being somewhere in-between. Any spare Mechanicus forces in the crowd just looked incredibly stiff. Max felt his heart swelled with pride and a little excitement, Bragana knew how to sell a speech, even if he did just trip over his words. Reaching over, he pulled down on the door handle and counted down:

**3...**

**2...**

**1...**

**Mark! Operation begin!**

An explosive choir blasted into the room, lighting it up in a symphony of ordinance and fire. The garage looked even more like a Necron tomb now; the smooth black surface now began to climb the walls in block-like patterns an abundance of green light ran up and down new and taller structures, forming ever more elaborate designs and symbols. There were now even multiple levels of structures and platforms, connected by catwalks illuminated by more jade lines. The mist and fog that once covered the ground was thinner now, but rose higher like faint clouds at the top of skyscrapers. Along the walls, power banks and row upon row of sarcophagi broke the monotony of the seamless black wall as blocks of Necron constructs turned their heads and bodies in unison to face the invading forces before being met by a rain of explosions all across their complex.

Dozens of Chimeras roared to life as the artillery shifted to a blocking barrage, their spotlights casting white cones that cut through the mist and shadows. Devilfish screamed after them, their hulls absorbing bolt after bolt of gauss weapons. Explosions rung out, not from artillery, but as transports were blown apart, their crews scrambling out of every hatch and door before being burned alive. The ground shook so much that even Max could feel the vibrations as more transports flooded in and soldiers dismounted. A chaotic, cacophonous scene played out as troopers were cut down the second they leapt out of their transports while others hugged their vehicles for cover. Pulse rounds and lasfire answered the guass blasts as Chimera and Devilfish slowly moved up, firing their guns to push the frontline forward.

A trio of flyers zoomed past Max's face as he carefully stepped around the second wave getting ready to enter. Two Valkyries followed a nimble Eldar Nightshade Interceptor that spun and dove into combat, strafing a Necron walker before it was taken down by a pair of missiles from one of the Valkyries. Inside the Imperial flyers, door gunners sent a hail of heavy bolter fire down from the sky as Stormtroopers checked their packs and prepared to jump. The Stormtroopers were preparing to make their drop when one of the Valkyries suddenly burst into flame. A pair of Necron flyers had risen from the ground and blasted its engines with their eldritch weapons, the door gunners clinging to dear life before being flung into the side of an obelisk as Stormtroopers were bailing out and falling out of the sky, fire burned away their carapace armor.

The next wave of transports rumbled forward into the breach, this time gaining more ground from a renewed assault. Max could see the frenzy inside the CentComm base as requests for reinforcements and fire support flooded the operators. Artillery crews were changing targets, Sallot Assault Engineers piled whatever they could on to their Goliath trucks and the first of the rapid response forces of the Eldar and Sisters mounted up. With a glorious hurrah, Lord Commissiar Basklow led the next wave in, pushing deeper into the tomb complex. As more Necron flyers rose from the ground, the Eldar deployed more of their own air superiority fighters from the Hanging Realm, bright lights flashing in the sky above the battlefield as xenos fighters dove and spun in a dogfight that resembled more of a dance.

"Gloriana Maxima!" one of the vox operators on the command counter waved down the giant human, "The General is saying to deploy the Marines now! Requesting launches!"

"Request received. Marines, get strapped in!" the Drop Pods closed up as Max grabbed one of them in his hand. It felt like holding a metal brick, requiring him to use a very awkward grip with both of his hands just to hold on to it. He looked into the one in his hand and looked at the battle egg he was going to chuck into battle, "Everyone ready?"

"This is Sergeant Boav. We are prepared to deploy. Are you prepared?" one of the voices in the pod replied.

"Well, I used to be a terror in middle school dodgeball. Let's see how well I've kept my throwing arm." Minis ran out of the way as Max widened his stance and prepared to throw, "Alright gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts and have your seats in the upright position for take off. On behalf of me, myself and I, we'd like to thank you for flying with Max Air. On behalf of the crew, we hope your LZ isn't too hot. The Emperor Protects."

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

Assault Engineer Kilrick Roan of the 19th Sallot Fire Corp hung on to dear life as the Goliath bounced through the breach, the gunner already blasting away at something in the distance with her lascannon. Over head, he saw the Astartes Drop Pods soar through the air one at a time, crashing through cat walks and carving huge chunks out of the black structures as they landed. He couldn't see where the Marines were as the truck rounded a turn, but the new increase of bolter chatter gave him hope that the Emperor's Angels had landed safely to bring death to the enemy. The vehicle skidded across the perfectly flat ground as it dodged an incoming death ray, smashing through some rubble as it joined another convoy headed to reinforce the northern front. Roan watched as multilasers sent bright red streaks down the corridor and the Tau battlesuits they passed by hunkering down for some sort of firing mode, holding on to his helmet as a new wing of Valkyries flew by.

"Incoming!" Someone shouted and everyone looked up as something in the sky exploded. A Valkyrie had just been cut in half, spinning out of control and sending guardsmen and metal flying everywhere as it slammed into one of the structures in the path of the convoy. With a heart stopping crunch, the flaming flyer sent debris into the air as the black stone structure collapsed in slow motion. Huge chunks fell from the sky, crushing the front end of the leading Hellhound and sending its rear into the air. The convoy slammed their breaks, but the Chimera following the lead vehicle didn't have enough space and slammed into the Hellhound's Promethium tanks. The ensuing cinematic explosion sent Roan and some of his squad flying, landing in heaps on the floor or on other vehicles.

Roan gasped for air but panicked as he could only manage shallow air, the landing knocking all the air out of his chest. Eyes wide and chest heaving, he could barely hear the battlefield as the ringing in his hears was nothing short of deafening. When air finally filled his lungs again, he never felt so lucky to be able to breath. His body cried out in pain with every nerve in his body sending painful reminders to his brain as he staggered to his feet and he was one of the lucky ones. All around him, people were howling and crying. One man got his leg tangled in the driver's view port of a Chimera and Roan was certain that legs weren't supposed to bend that way. Others had been slammed into the walls or floors, leaving bloody brushstrokes where they landed. The guardsmen in the Chimera that slammed into the Hellhoud desperately clawed their way out of the rear hatch, wreathed in promethium fire that consumed all of them before they hit the ground or even made it out. In the confusion, Roan defaulted on his training and looked for his sergeant who thankfully wasn't far.

"Whose still alive eh?" the sergeant roared, covering one bloody eye with his hand while waving his chainsword around with the other, "Jeres, Roan, Zalin, Marase! I want you four to blast a hole through that rubble! The rest of you set up a ramp or something so the convoy can get through!"

Stumbling to his feet, Zalin tossed Roan a stimshot from a medical bag that dulled the pain for now. The four engineers began to dig through their equipment on the back of the Goalith until a green bolt slammed into Zalin's back, causing him to scream in pain as his back was flayed, molecule by molecule, before he fell over the side dead. Immediately, troopers disembarked from their transports to face the new threat that had just awoke from a bank of sarcophagi previously thought of as a solid wall. Roan ducked and covered his head as another volley of gauss flew over his head, slamming into the rubble behind him, and watched as the Guardsmen and Fire Warriors formed ranked to fire back while under cover of their transports.

"I got the charges!" Jeres shouted, waving a melta bomb from behind a crate, shoving it back down as a stray beam nearly set it off in his hand.

"I'll get the drill! Lida! Try and blast a starter hole into the rubble!" Roan shouted at the Goliath gunner who swung the lascannon around and began to bore a hole into a large chunk of smoother wall. Roan jumped over the side of the truck and released the power drill from its cage on the side of the truck, ignoring the four guardsman that were sent flying back and landed near his feet. With a shaky grasp, he pressed the adamantium drill bit into the starter hole. Within seconds of turning it on, Roan dropped it and howled in pain while clutching his wrist; he hadn't even noticed the fracture and the pain until he put pressure on it. Without saying a word, Marase jumped over and took up drilling duty, telling Roan to go grab the melta bombs as a passing Drop Pod skid across the top of the walls, sending another rain of black stone on the engineers.

Heart pumping, Roan hobbled over to the Goalith, clutching his broken wrist as Jeres dropped a pair of melta bombs by tires before picking up a lasgun and firing at the Necrons. With one in his hand and another clutched tightly against his chest, Roan carried the charges towards Marase who was urgently waving him over. As the two began to arm the bombs, a bright light followed by a hellish screech appeared above them, heralding the arrival of a Canoptek Reanimator who immediately took a shot at the second team busy with their own clearing operation. The other engineers scattered as the walker's Reanimation Beam disintegrated one of them and stabbed one of its spindly legs into the remains of the burnt out wreck of the Hellhound. Both Roan and Marase cursed loudly as they scrambled to arm the bombs and throw them in the hole with about half of the convoy's firepower now directed towards the new threat in front of them. Marase didn't even wait to be the recommended safe distance away before she set off the charges, blowing even more rubble into the air and clearing a snug but workable hole.

"Get everyone back in their transports and move!" Roan shouted at his sergeant who was tending to a now armless Jeres. Within seconds, the remaining troopers piled back into their transports and the convoy rushed ahead, drivers desperately throwing their controls left and right to avoid being hit by the Canoptek Reanimator's beam. With the rest of the Engineers back in the Goliath, the truck took off after the convoy just as the Reanimator turned its gaze back towards them. A shot from its beam blew a hole right through the back lip of the truck as Marase peppered the walker with the mounted heavy stubber to little effect. Roan however, with his one good hand, fiddled with the detonator on another melta bomb. Right as the truck passed under the Reanimator's legs, he tossed the bomb straight up into its metalic underbelly. With a triumphant boom, the entire top half of the Reanimator exploded, sending chunks of it flying as the Engineering squad cheered.

"Don't celebrate yet, there's still a battle going on." the sergeant brought the team back into reality.

"Always the cheerful type." Marase quipped from the behind the stubber.

"I know, I'm just a ray of sunshine. But if you'd all like to look behind you, I think you'll see something really worth cheering about."

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With the last of the Drop Pods thrown into combat, Max took a deep breath and surveyed the battlefield. Even in the darkness, he could see hundreds of light flashing and bursting at once. The frontline was moving and the Sisters pushed out the flank to the point they could threaten an encirclement of a pocket of Necrons with the help of the Tau but Max wondered if that would even matter with the robotic Necron warriors. However, with the arrival of heavier Necron war machines, the coalition forces had lost the initiative as Sallot Engineers placed fortifications. Even the tanks that arrived were only helping so much due to hostile air power. Even worse, Max was fairly certain he saw at least one Monolith activate and knew full well that the ground forces had limited options to take it out with what they had. Lowering his mask and his voice, he gave one last remark to the Central Command bunker before moving in.

_"Gloriana Maxima activating combat protocols. Engaging hostile presence."_

Following the next wave of tanks and infantry, Max took long, careful strides into his garage, more Eldar interceptors flying past his shoulders. With his huge size, Max ignored the hallways and roads that the coalition forces had to use and instead crushed many structures that stood in his way with a satisfying crunch that threw alien green sparks into the air. Some Necrons turned to face him, splitting their fire and blasting the giant titan who just joined the battle, allowing for the ground troops they were fighting to take initiative again. With every swing of his fire extinguisher, he bent down and sent Warriors and metal flying, crushing unit after unit into pieces. Whenever it seemed like they were about to get back up again, Max stomped on them twice as hard. He marched across the battlefield feeling as invincible as the titans he was trying to emulate and he smiled. This was a... surprising amount of fun.

Down below, soldiers cheered whenever they saw Max drop his foot or the giant red tube on their enemies, pulling away the mist in the room with every step. Max laid down smoke screens wherever he could with a blast of white fire foam. Dropping his fire extinguisher in an open courtyard, Max swoop down and picked up a Canoptek Doomstalker, grabbing it in both hands, the construct crying out in mechanical agony as Max broke it like a very hostile crab leg. Throwing the broken bits into the distance, Max set his sights on to the Monolith he spotted. It was terrorizing part of the right flank and single handily pushing a hole into the line as soldiers were forced back. Clutching his fire extinguisher, Max marched over to the flank, wincing at the shots that were hitting his upper body and unprotected parts. Picking up speed as he went, he raised the heavy metal cylinder over his head and slammed it into the top of the Monolith as it forced another retreat. With a single strike, he had already dented both the extinguisher and the top of the floating evil pyramid.

**BANG. BANG. BANG.**

Max brought the extinguisher down again and an again, forcing the levitating pyramid to slam into the ground as he smashed away more and more of it until the fire extinguisher gave out and exploded its pressurized contents all around. The minis braced themselves as a wave of white foam washed over their lines, completely obscuring them, but Max was undeterred even as more and more shots singed his skin and burned through his shirt. He picked up the Monolith with both hand, raising it high above his head and roared as he slammed it upside-down, crystal first, into the ground with a mighty explosion. The force of which actually caused him to stumble and step on a Leman Russ, crushing it and its crew under his heel. Feeling an anger within, Max looked for the next Monolith to smash or maybe even something smaller. However, what he wasn't expecting was for a bright light to burst out and nearly blind him. Out of the light, a formation of Lychguard swarmed out, cutting a bloody path of privative corpses for their lieges to walk over. First came Tazmun, the Royal Warden, with his glaive and now sporting a richly decorated shield. And behind him was another Necron of even greater beauty and magnificence, with inlaid gold and jewels, even boasting a marble exterior and a flawless death mask: Izfret, the Daughter of the Stars, the Phaerakh of the Apahkt.


	10. Dynasty V - The Court of Everlasting Stars

With a stoic, zen-like concentration, the Sons of Dorn fired their holy bolters down the corridors at the Necrons on the other end, the floors and walls bursting into black fragments and charred debris with every stray shot. The flurry of green gauss beams was answered by the Astartes with disciplined volleys that lit up the halls and intersections between them. Even when one of their numbers was struck by the eldritch green of the Necrons, they allowed themselves only a moment of stubborn breath before resuming the fight. As long as they could still stand and hold their weapons, the Conservators focused purely on their accuracy and fire discipline, even ignoring the much smaller Tau Fire Warriors who ran past them towards the only usable ladder to the upper catwalks.

Heads down and hooves against the ground, the Fire Warriors dove into what little cover they could as they tried to reach the ladder in the middle of the firefight. All the others either didn't reach far enough or had been destroyed and the large group had few other options. They were too busy with their own concerns to mind what the Marines were doing, just hoping the "suppressive fire" they were using wouldn't hit them. With a combination of Mont'ka and Rinyon, the teams had been ordered to attempt outflanking maneuvers against key strong points of resistance. Any hope of using regular long range tactics was turning out to be an impossible daydream within the dark, twisting halls of the Necron tomb-complex with its limited open areas.

A Necron gauss beam finally found its mark, disintegrating the shoulder of a screaming Fire Warrior before part of his face met a similar fate. The Shas'ui sergeant threw a smoke grenade towards the Necrons, deciding that the Marines can probably just deal with the smoke themselves; his own soldiers took priority and he didn't plan to just let them get picked off in a place like this. Ordering some light return fire, the Shas'ui led his team up the high ladder to the platform above, losing another two soldiers in their rapid ascent. One was bisected by a stray blast, their body slamming into another warrior on the way down, causing both to land with a sickening wet crunch.

Once everyone was finally up, they ran across the decks to the steady backdrop of battle. Shells landed at regular intervals to punctuate the steady beats of gunfire and the white noise of blurred voices on their comms. Every so often an especially loud explosion from a vehicle or ear piercing scream came over the radio, but the Fire Warriors soldiered on, stopping only to stare upon the titan Gloriana Maxima as it strode across the battlefield like a god of war above them.

The ground shook as its mighty feet stomped across the ground, crushing lone Necrons like bugs, its emotionless titan mask sending shivers up the spines of the Tau as they witnessed it scan for new targets. They were thankful they weren't fighting it. Flyers buzzed around him, spraying fire into its superstructure, puncturing its thin armor and leaving holes in it. A new pair of Valkyries roared past the titan's legs, their door gunners blasting at rooftop targets while the missile pods sent a dizzying barrage of trailing missiles to some other distant target.

Climbing over wrecks and jumping over battle damage, the team of Fire Warriors finally reached their destination. Gathering on a ledge overlooking one of a few open areas, the team saw the row upon row of dormant Necron warriors, standing still as statues among empty plinths and an elaborate runic pillar. A team of Eldar Rangers somehow found this place earlier in the battle and the Tau were the only force near enough with the ability and fire power to get there. Spreading across the walkways and ledges with their rifles and explosives ready, the Fire Warriors surrounded the slumbering legion in a killzone. "Fire!" the Shas'ui shouted as pulse fire lit up the room below before explosive charges sailed in as well. It was a one sided slaughter with the Necrons not moving at all even as they all crumbled to the ground. One by one, the Tau jumped down to the ground floor to examine their handy work and for a quick reprieve from battle.

"One minute breather! Then we move!" the Shas'ui took out a canteen like the rest of his squad, sitting next to them before letting out a long, pent up breath followed by a refreshing drink, "Okay… maybe two."

The rest of the squad chuckled as they watched their commander take another drink. Many of the followed and, saved for the sentries, even took their helmets off to wipe the sweat off their brow. Most had been fighting for a while now, having been reassigned to this from command into the larger mixed team. Some took to looking more closely at the room they were all in; a large circular chamber with four cardinal exits and at least two were blocked by debris on the ground. Looking at the Necron Warriors themselves, their bodies weren't the normal smooth, basic finish. Their necrodermis looked like silvery flowing water, the type you'd see on Damascus steel and each one had plenty of silver and bronze details. Some soldiers were so entranced by its alien beauty that they didn't even realize the hand that was arising from the pile of bodies.

"HHAAUURRGGGGH!" The rest of the squad jumped to action, just in time to see one of their comrades stagger from side to side, wide-eyed and mouth open in shock as a metal hand stabbed itself into his side. With a sick, slick shlurk, the hand pulled back, now covered in a warm red, and the body began to rise back up along with the rest of the presumed dead legion.

The Fire Warriors grabbed their guns and helmets and hastily formed a firing line as the room filled with an ominous green light. Several more had hands grasp and trash at them but only a few managed to rip into skin. The Tau watched in horror as the room of previously "dead" Necrons stirred to life, like puppets who had just been yanked up by their strings. They fired into the mass of Necrodermis, taking cover behind whatever low wall or artistic display they could. The return fire was brutal and some of the Warriors didn't get up at all, instead dragging their crippled bodies over towards the Tau.

The Shas'ui shouted for Imperial artillery support as more pulse rounds slammed into the Necrons, only for the Tau to receive gauss blasts back. The Necrons crawling on the ground were being stamped on like giant metal bugs with the most desperate among the Fire Warriors resorting to their honor blades or even using their guns as clubs less they be dragged down to the ground. In the chaos, someone has thrown a spare explosive charge into the oncoming crowd, blowing a satisfying, but brief, hole in the horde that was quickly refilled. Beyond them, even more Necrons were marching into battle from a connecting chamber. With their backs against the wall, some of the soldiers resorted to using dead bodies and corpses of both friend and foe for cover, hopelessly standing against the oncoming tide until they heard a voice from one of the hallways.

"For the Emperor!" the Seraphim Knights of the Order of the Argent Chalice shouted their battlecry as they charged in atop their mounts. With their flaming lances lowered, the sisters slammed into the Necron's flank, impaling them upon their blessed spears or cutting into them with holy blades, burning away the eldritch light in their deathless eyes. Protected by blessed barding and divine favor of the Emperor, the Sisters gave the Tau enough time to reorganize before blasting into the melee with carefully aimed shots. Metal scrapped against metal as the two teams worked together to put down the Necrons again. Some sisters were ripped from their saddles as unlucky Tau were turned into screaming ash until the ground erupted into fire and debris, sending all sides into the air as more shells began to land around in the room.

"Gue'vesa! Adjust your fire! Adjust your FUCKING fire! You're hitting us!" the Shas'ui roared into his helmet as friendly fire turned a pair of Fire Warriors into paste, "Get the guns to move up!"

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

Beyond the garage door, in the network of command buildings and bunkers, a Tau operator scribbled what the Shas'ui was saying, translating them into usable firing coordinates, before thrusing it into the chest of a nearby attendant, all without looking up from the console. Requests of all sorts were pouring in from every console with the Tau and the Imperials taking up most of the space. Artillery, reinforcement, medical evac, air support, the communications room was a live with the sound of static vox casters and radio equipment. The attendant was one of many like them as they ran to deliver the message to an Imperial attendant who bumped through the running crowd to an artillery coordinator. The coordinator began to list off new firing targets but being cut short, only making it about three words before the room exploded.

"Damage control teams to Communication Room Alpha! Damage control teams to Communications Room Alpha!" the voice of a servitor blared as attendants and operators were sent flying or set alight in fire, their machines exploding from the Necron Doomscythes that had just made a pass on the base. Smoke and sparks were everywhere as gas-masked figures rushed in with fire extinguishers to put out the alien flames licking at the floor and remaining consoles.

As the Doomcythes made ready for another pass, loaders on AA guns filled their guns with rounds as haulers brought more from an ammo cache. The entire network lit up, producing a steady stream of rapid-fire thuds that blackened the sky. Gun crews were shouting at one another to try to follow or even predict which way the Necron flyers would go but they couldn't predict the strange and erratic ways the flyers were moving. They frantically reloaded magazines in between bursts, desperately clinging to their guns as the ammo cache exploded after another pass. "We can't get a lock on!" The AA commander desperately shouted over the shared communications network, "They're moving too unpredictably for our guns!"

"Leave them to us, Mon-keigh." A calm but confident voice swooped in from the Eldar's hanging city aboard a pair of Crimson Hunters, "This is Star Spinner on station, the skies are ours; watch and learn."

For a second, all those on the ground watched as red afterimages chased after black ones in the sky above, Brightlances and Gauss weapons meeting in a lightning fast dogfight. The two sides zipped and dove and spun and pushed their crafts to their limits, pulling off stunts that no Tau or Imperial pilot would dare dream of with their more primitive crafts. The Crimson Hunters chased after the Doomscythes, following them as they reentered the garage.

They flew past the titan Gloriana Maxima, who had a Monolith within its grasp, plucked from the battlefield like a brick. Firing off their green beams, the Doomscythes blasted the titan's back, causing it to let out a howl of pain and twitch, dropping the Monolith. With their superhuman senses, the Eldar watched the entire event in slow motion as they flew between the titan's legs and flailing arms, continuing to chase their prey.

"Alemas! I got a lock!" One of the pilots proudly proclaimed, tunnel visioning onto the Necron craft before him as his weapons set the Doomscythe alight causing him to let out a cheer.

"Kayrion! Watch your flying look out-" Alemas shouted at his partner just before the second Doomscythe stopped and slammed it's much thicker wing into Kayrion's fighter, ripping off the marvel of Eldar engineering and sending it tumbling towards the ground.

"By Khaine! I've lost control!" Kayrion's voice went from a confident smile to a well concealed panic as he desperate worked the remaining wing, "I can't halt it, I'm going down!"

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

Roan of the 19th Sallot Fire Corp's assault engineer attachment watched with the rest of his unit as the Crimson Hunter was sent screaming back to Earth, barreling through walkways, bridges and scaping ragged chunks out of buildings it slamming into as the pilot was thrown about in his cockpit. When it finally hit the ground, sliding along a long wall, Roan didn't wait for any orders. All on his own, as if possessed by a greater purpose, the guardsman grabbed a tool kit off the side of the Goliath and ran, head down, towards the crashed fighter. As the rest of the unit continued to fire at the Necrons, Roan went through every tool he could to free the crashed pilot as flames began to lick at the Eldar's feet. As artillery and airstrikes began to hammered the ground, Roan resorted to simply trying to slam the cockpit open with a shovel until he was thrown off by a deafening roar.

Gloriana Maxima let out a howl of pain as hundreds of gauss weapons suddenly turned their aim towards it. Too small to be able to atomize or vaporize such a large body, the Necrons instead left a patchwork of charred, itchy black marks upon the titan. Blaring curses, the titan was too big of a target and with nowhere to run, was brought down by a thousand cuts, crashing through walls and trampling anything under its feet until it finally collapsed with a thunderous crash, crumbling to its knees.

Max snapped out of the power fantasy of being a titan as the pain shot through his body, holding back tears as he tried to rub his injured leg to smooth it, wiping away blackened ash with every swipe. He gritted his teeth as a final volley cause his arms to give way. When he tried again to get up, he saw the barrel of a Doomsday Ark pointed directly at his head and Tazmun, the Royal Warden, standing next to it, his ornate armor just barely battle damaged and his glaive shimmering in the low light.

To his side was another figure, this one more slender and even more ornately decorated. Beyond the Damascus necrodermis, the figure boasted numerous silver and marble-like ribs going from the waist down like a skeletal dress. Gold and precious gems were tastefully inlaid upon delicate silver flowers and vines that gracefully flowed into etchings. Upon its face as a perfect death mask of marble, expressive even in stillness. Max didn't know that there were Necrons so fascinated by appearances, thinking how much a nightmare it would have been to try and kitbash a figure like this, let alone what it must have taken to alter the typical Necron body into something like this.

"Honored colossus, you have fought valiantly." A commanding, high-born feminine robotic voice spoke from behind the death mask, "To the forces of such a being, lay down your arms or I shall deliver upon your colossus a swift execution."

A green-tinted image of Max prone before a Doomsday Ark suddenly filled the sky, projected from a palace-like structure behind the scene itself. Slowly, the sound of battle quieted as gunfire and explosions turned into an awkward mummering. The minis by this point were smart enough to realize that if Max were to die, their existence in his house and in this world would likely become exponentially harder.

"Now, as for you..." the royal turned to face Max as if inspecting a large statue and not a giant human who had just been throwing around warmachine like toys, "I am Izfret, Pharek of the Apakht, Lady of the Court of Everlasting Stars! And you, you shall be a most glorious centerpiece for my court!"

"A centerpiece? A centerpiece of what exactly?" Max groaned through the battle-worn titan mask that was starting to fall away.

"Of my collection of course. I fill my court with nothing but the most skilled artisans and the most impressive displays of artistic expressions or anything else I deem worthy. And you are worthy if for size alone."

"I'm going to have to reject that offer." Max blankly stared at Izfret as she made dramatic hand motions, "Besides, I doubt you have a containment field large enough for me."

"I reject your rejections. We have ways of transmuting your form to a more manageable size."

Fearing the implications of that statement, Max searched around, scouring his brain for something to get him out of this situation but all he saw was the result of battle. Burnt out vehicles, destroyed buildings, empty courtyards...

"I have a proposal!" Max looked up, figuring something out, "You said you wanted me for your collection because right now yours's is empty?"

Izfret nodded, "Yes, it would seem a number of my displays have been pilfered or lost. What is your point primitive?"

"Okay, let me explain. You are in the past, and not in the future where everyone else you've been fighting is also from. Also I am not huge, you are small. I don't know how it works but that's what the situation is like right now."

Izfret just stared blankly at Max with mild confusion. Tazmun looked around at his soldiers, remaining silent on the entire situation as his liege began to take the situation in for herself.

"What I'm saying right now is that you are small. Powerful, but small and most people in this world probably don't want you here. I am however willing to let you stay here, in my home as a base to collect and store wonders and curios from."

"Interesting preposition... and what's stopping me from just taking over this domain and adding it to my own?"

"Because you can kill me. Hell you might even be able to make it through the three other factions under my charge and have your victory. But what will you have after that? You can win and stand alone in the world with no one to stand by your court and everyone to possibly hate and destroy it."

Izfret's posture noticeably changed, no longer as fluid and in control, it changed to a more rigid one by the end of Max's sentence. Standing perfectly still, Tazmun had to walk over and rouse his lady back to awareness until Izfret looked back up at Max with an attentive gaze, no longer a dismissive one she started with.

Leaping on an opening, Max delivered his offer again, "If you promise to not fight in my house and just accept that the other races can live, I offer you my garage as a base for your court and your dynasty, a place for your art pieces."

"Mon-keigh!" Faeris angrily swooped in on a jetbike, prompting half a dozen Necrons to raise their weapons at her, "You parley with the unliving aberrants of ages past? And you offer them your own home with everyone else?!"

"If you can't tell, I sort of have a miniature death gun point at my head and I prefer my head to not have a hole in it thank you."

"Oh? Is the upstart Eldar jealous? Sick with envy?" Izfret's sullen voice suddenly turned sickeningly sweet and dripping with a smugness only matched by an anime princess, "The high and mighty Eldar are unable to grasp even the most basic and rudimentary aspects of cordial diplomacy? Even the primitive mon-keigh can! You speak with such pride but you're about as polished as rusted dust!"

"You metal wench! I will slice you into pieces and have my Warlocks send each part of your decrypt body hurling through the Warp!" Faeris raised her sword and turned her jetbike's gun to point at the Pharek.

"You will do no such thing." Tazmun stepped in front of Izfret, glaive pointed at the bike, while the other guards pointed their own weapons at the Eldar, ready to pounce on her.

Thinking quickly, Max shot his hand in between the Necrons and the Autarch, blocking line of sight, "Hey, you manage to get along with the Tau and the Humans right? Why not the same here? It's not like they are out just for murder. Hell I don't think I've seen a Destroyer or Flayed One."

"That is because we do not consort with the infected and the corrupted." Tazmun explained, "I have granted them a swift mercy myself."

"Mon-keigh, you can't really just expect them to-"

"Done! By my will and by my command, the legions of the Apakht shall no longer engage direct combat with the titan or any under his charge!" Izfret practically smiled at the Eldar's loss of words, "The Court of Everlasting Stars still knows the value of diplomacy and prefers not to just wail on anything we don't like with crude sticks and stones. Oh ho ho ho~"

Izfret's smugness was practically coating the walls at this point and Max could just feel Faeris's elf ears blowing steam. The Pharek even had her hand up by her mouth while laughing. In an indignant huff, Faeris glared at Max, piercing both of their masks with a frosty gaze, before flying off. With a wave of her hand, the Doomsday Ark backed off and Max slowly tried to get himself back up.

"Tazmun, I leave you to clean up this mess. I will be in my chambers if something worthy of my time occurs."

Izfret strode off into her palace-structure in the background, followed by a pair of Lychguards and a small herd of scarabs. Max could see the Warriors and Immortals move about, not for combat, but for cleaning duties. His face shifted between relief and worry over the deal he just verbally signed.

"Do not worry." Tazmun looked up at Max who was still trying to get on his feet, "My lady is many things, but a liar is not among them. You do not need to concern yourself about us expanding beyond these walls.

"Yeah... it's not you I'm worried about. It's everyone else."

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Over the next few days, clean up and recovery efforts were started and the atmosphere in the tom-garage was awkward to say the least. Recovery teams were still heavily armed and any patrolling Necron construct or scarab swarm was given a very, very wide berth. The command center had shifted control mostly to the Eldar who, at the behest of Faeris, became quite zealous at guarding and looking for any indication of subversion by the necrons. While the Imperials and Tau still had a presence at the new guard site, it was the Eldar who became the guardians of the garage. Their hanging city even expanded to the laundry room ceiling.

The peace with the Necrons on the other hand was fairly unpopular; a textbook example of a battle fought for nothing. Most of the soldiers didn't approve of it and more than a few officers had their own gripes. It was only a combination of thankful loyalty to Max and copious bribes of chocolate chips, online entertainment videos and a bottle of booze that max bought which was keeping anything beyond upset mutterings from occurring.

The garage itself however was in surprisingly good shape. It seems that having a workforce entirely obedient and not requiring luxuries like food, sleep or the need to follow known laws of physics and matter did wonders for production efficiency and output. Packs of scarabs filled every available space, trailing after other constructs and personnel assigned to overseeing repairs.

Careful not to crush anyone this time, Max made his way inside to see how things were going. He was still covered in bandages, band aids and smelled aloe vera burn cream but thankful that none of the gauss weapons went deeper than skin deep. Without the bodies and entrenchments (combined with actual light now coming in from both windows and the garage lights), the tomb was a lot less gloomy and sinister. If anything it reminded Max more of an outdoor art gallery with an alien twist and liberal application of black and green paint. Obelisks that were used for cover had intricate scenes carved upon them. Formerly empty plinths had various artifacts hovering in stasis above them, some not even Necron.

Navigating his way around the corners and careful not to shatter any walkways or walls, Max watched as an Imperial delegation was wrapping up a meeting with the Court of Everlasting Stars. To call it a "diplomatic mission" was a stretch as it had enough firepower to mount a sizable raid, but given how the both sides' soldiers were lined up in parade ground formations and officials were talking, it seems like it was working. The Necrons would return the body of Harrick along with his knife to the Imperials in a sign of goodwill. Max thought that if they ever turned it into an artifact or something they should name it the "Dagger of Indomitable Harrick" since it had a nice ring to it. This would also probably lead to a slightly closer bond between the Guard and the Tau on some level, both partially responsible for this mess to begin with.

Massagining his various wounds, Max watched as the deligations parted ways with the Imperials mounting back up into their transports and rumbling off back upstairs. For the past few days, the Apakht had kept to their word and no more fighting had occurred, despite the rampant paranoia of Faeris about them. Max's mind wondered how possible such a cordial existence was even possible given the setting all of these factions came from. Maybe it was the fact they were thousands of years away from the original grim and uncompromising setting that let them have a breath of fresh air and act much more calmer. Maybe he just got lucky and didn't get a bag full of the most rampant crazies.

"I must offer you my thanks, Grand Chamberlin." Tazmun appeared through a hidden teleporter on to a rooftop close to Max as he was deep in thought.

"Grand Chamberlin?" Max asked about yet another title he was given.

"You are the owner of this home are you not? You are its master and responsible for its upkeep, thus you are a chamberlain of this estate."

"Fair enough. I like to think I do my best around here."

"That you have. You may be surprised by this, but I find your insistence of peace to be admirable. While I have lived a lifetime of war, I am afraid it suits my lady not."

"A Necron not built for war?" Max questioned the small Royal Warden who watched as Izfret disappeared back into her palace.

"No, my lady is indeed built for war. But being built for something does not make you suitable for it. My lady has never taken well to martial pursuits. And the long eons of slumber have not helped. She prefers the company of exotic artifacts, engaging curios and the acquisition of artistic merit for they were her only comfort a child like her had. She was cursed to a lonely life from birth."

Max looked at Tazmun's unmoving face as he looked upon the garage-tomb. For undead metal robots, the Necrons had surprised Max with their humanity and emotion. He thanked fate that again, he didn't end up with a silent mass killer psycho dynasty in his garage.

"Grand Chamberlin, do you know why my lady refers to her court as the Court of Everlasting Stars?" Tazmun watched Max's response carefully until he just shook his head, "According to my lady, it was from a story she was told when she was a child, one of the rare times she was allowed guests. In the story, a girl asks to be as bright and as brilliant as the stars and to live forever. She was granted this wish and became a new star in the endless void. But as the millennium dragged on, she regretted her wish and hated her immortality. One by one, over billions of years, the stars fell silent and dark until only she remained in the eternal emptiness of stars. So great was her loneliness that she desperately wished for a friend that she could never have. So instead, she burst herself apart, scattering her body far and wide to create a new universe, one with millions of stars for her to look for a friend amongst. Ultimately, she moved on even after realizing the consequences of her wish. To be stuck in the past is a most dreadful thing; there is no dawn without a setting sky."

"I got to say, I wasn't expecting such a story from an immortal mechanical robot. I'm surprised that a children's story would have existential dread as a concept though. Why are you even telling me all of this?"

"Necrontyr culture is... different from your own. As for my reasoning, it is because my lady wished for it and her word is my command. A personal insight as thanks for our stay here." Tazmun began to walk back toward the portal that brought him to the rooftop, "And because I can tell, your spirit is good. You may not feel it, but your contributions to everyone under your charge is a feat most impressive. Don't you forget it."

Max silently smiled as Tazmun was zapped away and he began to head back into his house. He still had his own chores to do and no doubt food would do him good, the other armies would also probably appreciate some food. It was nice hearing thanks from someone, even if they had a body count that rivalled entire military battalions armed with near-magical weaponry. The sheer absurdity of it all finally started to sink into Max again. Here he was as pseudo-overlord of several of the most formidable fighting forces of the 41st millennium who have seen horrors beyond his imagination and hell beyond what was possible on Earth. And he was wondering about what to cook all of them for breakfast. What a world he lived in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter specifically, I tried something of a "flowing/shifting POV". Feedback on how it worked out and namely if it was clear would be much appreciated.


	11. Eyebrekka I - The Fury before the Storm

"This is Hawker 2, requesting permission for lift off, following patrol pattern Alpha Michaels Bravo."

"Hawker 2, permission granted. Exit via Window 2 North, hold for the Arvus until it lands."

"Thank you tower, we are wings up, heading Window 2 North."

Jasen tilted his head back and looked up at his copilot as the Valkyrie's engines spun up. As the transport began to lift up, he made a kissy face towards her.

"Hey, come on. Remember no fraternization while on duty honey." Vella looked down from her controls and giggled as they waited for the Arvus to land.

"As long as the commissar doesn't know, we can't get in trouble." Jasen looked back into the troop compartment and raised his voice so the two spotters could hear him clearly, "Isn't that right guys?"

"No worries mates, engines are too loud to hear a thing back here!" Herez shouted.

"Yeah just try not to do your martial duties while flying eh? Your flying is rocky enough as is!" Everyone chuckled at Trak's crack at the pilot and copilot.

"You two just keep your eyes on the ground, focus on looking at the ground and leave it to us not to slam into it." Vella watched the Mechanicus Arvus Lighter followed the hanging Christmas light "runway" to a landing pad before throttling up the engines.

"No need to tell me ma'am. I've needed to get outside for a while now anyways. Fresh air sounds real nice right about now." Herez buckled up against one of the door gunners chairs.

"Take deep breaths mate, this is prime Holy Terra air! None of that pilgrim peddler junk!" Trak took a spot on the other door gunner position.

Following their own festive runway, the patrol flew out of the window into the open air as the sun began to set leaving a beautiful sky of colors behind. Everyone took a deep breath and collectively shivered. It was refreshing, invigorating and blessed. Never did any of them think they would even come close to the Sol Sector, let alone Holy Terra itself. All four of them thanked the Emperor, wherever he was, for this unprecedented opportunity. To see Holy Terra before the heresy, before the hives, before the billions of pilgrims, before even the Dark Age of Technology, Jasen purposely flew just a little slower so everyone could take it all in.

As they rose to the first spot, a light drizzle began to pepper the Valkyrie. Dropplets slammed into the outer hull with a wet bang. A rainstorm was forecasted to come in during the night and it seemed to have started early. At their small scale, even this light rain could be a danger. But Jasen and Vella were experienced pilots having flown through both the acid hurricanes of Ulmyar Prime and the raging blizzards of Perkain IV. A bit of "light" rain wasn't going to trouble them.

"Alright, first stop roof top. Lets check in with what those cog boys are doing." Herez pulled out a notepad and a pair of binoculars as the Valkyrie stabilized in the air. A flat portion of the roof was now being turned into a communications array with tin foil dishes being set up by servitors. A cadre of tech priests were going around blessing, anointing and calibrating all kinds of machines while some Skitarii were brought in to help with running wires from the array to the interior of the house. In an effort to combat growing complaints of boredom, Max had been working with Earth Caste engineers and tech priests to link his wifi to whatever machines they had brought in as part of a two part plan. The first was letting outdoor flights which mostly the guard had taken advantage of. The Xenos had their own affairs or civilians to tend to while the Imperial really didn't.

Herez and Trak sat on the ledge of the Valkyrie for a little bit, taking notes of what the cog boys were doing and the types of animals they saw. At one point they debated about trying to use the door guns to shoot down on the passing birds, officially to bring back as food but realistically just for fun. More transports were coming up and down from the second floor windows as the temporary construction lift slowly moved its way up and down the side of the house.

"Think we're done here!" Herez got up and shouted to the pilots, "Lets keep moving. Hopefully we get to see one of those 'doers' the guys at base were talking about."

"I think they're called 'deer' Herez. Jasen, could you be a dear and check in with ATC? I'll move us around." Vella rose the Valkyrie higher into the air as they began their patrol route,

Their route consisted of several rounds around the house at different altitudes and radii. Trying to actually spot anything in the backyard was nearly impossible as the unmowed lawn was overgrown and looked like a forest to the tiny soldiers. And as the sky grew darker and darker, it only became harder.

When the rain finally started to pick up the drizzle turned into the beginnings of a light downpour, Herez had closed his door and was packing up for the day, "Well, that's a day's work done. Can't wait to get back, this giant rain isn't something I miss."

"Tell me about it." Jasen began to message Imperial ATC, "ATC, this is Hawker 2, we're finished out here and heading out to base."

"Affirmative Hakwer 2, we got no available pads on our side so you'll be directed to the Sororitas Chamber. Enter via Window 1 East, landing pad 9."

"Window 1 East, landing pad 9. Got it." Jasen marked down the directions and threw it up to his wife.

"Hey, hey. I think I see something in the grass. Roughly south and uh... 270-ish." Trak moved over as Herez also took a look, "See it mate?"

"Hmm... oh! Got it. Yeah, I'm seeing something down there, don't know what exactly. Probably just a rock or something but we oughta check it out just in case."

Vella looked over and down her controls and met Jasen's smile. Between the two of them, they loved flying in the rain with the sound of water against the hull. Jasen was the first one to open his mouth, "Guess we're going for one more round in the rain."

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

"Tower to Azure 1, 2 and 4, you are clear for take off on Window 1 North. Watch the weather and stay in contact."

The pilots heard the directions from Imperial ATC and gave a thumbs up to the Sergeant Omaris who walked back into the troop compartment. As the two Valkyries and single Sky Talon lifted off, Omaris addressed the search and rescue squad.

"Listen up people. Be briefed or be sorry! We just lost a patrol flight, designation Hawker 2. They were supposed to arrive in the Sororitas Chambers five minutes ago. Last check said they were coming in but never arrived. Fell right off the radar. Our mission tonight is to find that Valk and extract any survivors and its black box. Rain is heavy so stay alert. Any questions?"

"No sergeant!" the entire troop compartment shouted as the flyers took off into the rain. The droplets came down hard and heavy, splattering the roof with a constant barrage of sound that caused some troopers to hold on just a little harder.

"Good. We've got some Sentinels with the recon team with us today, a present from command. Parrak, try not to get stepped on this time."

"Sergeant, why do we need Sentinels?" private Parrak asked, his voice the tiniest bit afraid.

"Dunno, if I had to guess this is the first Valk we've lost in a while and they're just covering their bases."

"Think something's out there sarge?"

"Again, dunno. Just shut it Parrak."

Omaris took a spot next to the recently promoted Roan, enjoying the perks of the "heroic actions" he performed in the Battle of the Black Chamber. Roan himself thought it was more of a political statement to try and get on the Eldar's good side. At least getting moved meant he also got a new private closet of a sleeping room and access to flavored corpse starch and recaff that supposedly had actual caff in it. How luxurious.

In the darkness of the waning twilight, the team's three transports zoomed through the choppy weather. The transports were tough workhorses of the guard, but even they were struggling against the rain and wind. The poor Drop Sentinels had it the worse though, clanging and banging against their mag-clamps. All three of the Valkyries flicked on their floodlights while their side doors opened to reveal door guns replaced by more high powered lights. Long white cones swept the overgrown lawn, searching for any sign of a downed Valkyrie.

The wind blew chills into the troop compartments as troops shuttered from the cold. The spotlights went back and forth as the Valkyries moved into a holding pattern around the rough area where Hawker 2 went off the grid. The search and rescue team were getting antsy stuck in the air. Something was sending chills up their spines and it wasn't the weather.

"Think I found something!" one of the spotlights focused on the smoldering wreck of a Valkyrie that blasted a clearing in the ground and partially dug itself in the earth.

"Good work." Omaris moved up and looked over the operator's shoulder as more beams of light danced over the crash site, "Command, this is Omaris. We've found the remains of Hawker 2, moving in now."

"Uhh... gents, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we can't land down there. It'll be like trying to land on a wet forest canopy." one of the pilots called back from the cockpit.

"Just bring us in as close as you, we'll rope down." Omaris prepared everyone's rappelling lines as the guardsmen lined up for descent.

As Roan hooked himself up to the line and got ready to jump, something from the edge of his vision caught his eye. It was a single bright light coming out of the grass- wait no, it was several, no a dozen.

Roan's eyes widened as he realized what was coming.

"AMBUSH!" Roan shouted as a well aimed cluster of rockets slammed into the Valkyrie, tossing guardsmen inside all over. Alarms started blaring as the pilots struggled to regain control. Guardsmen who were already on the line were tossed around like toys on string as one of the engines died, sending the whole flyer into a spin. Roan watched in horror as one of the ropes looped around the top of Valkyrie and prayed that the gut-wrenching squelching sound followed by shuttering mechanical failure wasn't someone getting sucked into the remaining engine. Everyone in the Valkyrie tried to grab onto something as another soldier was thrown out the side and into the darkness with a scream.

The other Valkyrie and the Sky Talon tried to get away, only to be met by rocket fire and AA guns themselves. The cockpit of the other Valk exploded into fire and the entire craft began to nose dive into the ground. Roan only got a glimpse as held on to a handle for dear life as his own Valkyrie slammed into the mud.

"Comone! Voxcommand..."

"...weneda reinfor..."

"Ashurrfore goingdown!"

Roan gasped for air as he finally awoke. Everything was moving in slow motion. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurry. Any sort of chattered came through as a garbled mess. Distant voices were shouting quite orders as Roan crawled towards the tilted crash to the side of the Valk that wasn't faced against the ground. He ignored the cries and the bodies inside the Valk, pretending not to see how Parrak's arm was bent the complete wrong way.

But as he created the edge, Roan couldn't ignore the sight of the burning Drop Sentinel, its cockpit burning as it feebily attempted to walk forward. A burning body flung itself out from the top, hurling several feet onto the ground below in a desperate escape. Soon, the Sentinel collapsed face forward and out of view.

Grabbing a lasgun from a dead guardsman slumped up against the side of the transport, Roan watched as Sergeant Omaris fired into the dense grass with the door gun of the downed Hawker 2. The former assault engineer didn't even think, he just acted on instinct as he got to his feet. Find cover. Shoot. Move. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Move.

He could barely see a thing in the darkness and the rain, blindly firing at the rough origins of the wild gunfire before he slid into an artillery crater with some other guardsmen in it. Critically, a vox operator was among them who was trying to call command, "Command! We've just been engaged by an unknown hostile force! All three transports are down and we have lost Sentinel support! We need immediate reinforcements!"

"Where the hell is all this fire coming from? Where do we shoot?" A private shouted over the sounds of battle as another shell landed nearby, spraying mud and clumps of dirt over everyone.

Roan scanned the battlefield, poking his head above the shell hole and looking for something in the dense darkness.

"Get to Hawker 2!" Roan shouted, "Sergeant Omaris is there! We can use it as a defensive point with its heavy bolter until reinforcements arrive! Move out people!"

With a resounding "yes sir!" The makeshift fireteam clambered out of the crater and began the difficult trek towards Omaris's position. With how wet and muddy the ground had become, trying to run was impossible as the marshy terrain threatened to swallow the soldiers' legs. One man was struck by something that blew his top half clean off in an explosion of gore, leaving only his stumped legs to sink into the mud.

The team continued to take casualties as they marched through the mud. Overhead, more Valkyries flew in alongside Avenger fighters but were soon turned back by concentrated AA fire and rockets; the skies were filled with flak, bullets and explosives alongside the rain.

The team could now see Omaris's face being lit up by gunfire as another Valkyrie full of troops slammed into the ground. Struggling through the last bit of muddy bog and with bullets zipping all around, Roan shouted for everyone to keep moving no matter what.

"Come on! Keep moving! We're almost there! Don't-"

The ground suddenly erupted under the guardsmen. The lot of them were sent flying into the air, some coming back down in pieces. Roan was thrown into a thicket of grass, his back shredded and bleeding as his raw flesh was now exposed to the night air. He wretched in pain as the burning hot shrapnel had torn into his back, sending fire up every nerve ending he had left. He howled in pain as he tried to touch his back, only to be repulsed by the pain until he heard another guardsman.

"Please! Help me!" the man shouted as he was thrown into a muddy puddle along with some others. He watched in horror as the mud swallowed some of the bodies whole, disappearing like sand on a beach.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Roan half crawled, half dug his way towards the edge of the puddle as soldiers ran past them. He threw a hand out that the sinking guardsmen desperate grabbed on to.

"Hold on! Don't let go!" Roan's face twisted as he tried to pull the guardsman out. But the mud kept sucking him back in. Even in the darkness, Roan could see the fear and terror on the man's face as he recklessly flailed to free himself.

Tau Hammerheads and Devilfish were now zooming past them, but both soldiers barely noticed as they fired off deeper into the brush. The guardsman was sinking fast, first his chest, then his armpits, then his shoulders.

"Please! Help!" the man cried out as Roan grabbed one arm with both his hands and pulled.

"Hold on! Don't let go!" Roan strained as he was no longer trying to pull him out, but merely stop him from sinking deeper. By this point, the guardsman's neck was already buried under the murky marsh, forced to stick his chin out just for breath.

Suddenly a rain droplet fell on Roan's exposed back. A new, paralyzing pain shot through him as he was forced to let go and scream. Roan flung himself back, rolling while trying to keep his back off the ground in a twisted arch. His eyes filled with tears as his teeth gnashed against one another like hammers. In his demented rolling, he noticed the guardsman's face starting to sink below the surface, frozen in fear.

Summoning the last of his strength, Roan threw himself forward and fished for the man's hands just under the muck. It took every fiber of willpower to ignore the pain spreading all over his back. He found the man's hand but couldn't get a grip. The rain and the mud made it too slippery and Roan was getting weaker.

"Somebody!" he cried out as more reinforcements rushed past him towards the fight, "Somebody help! He's down there!"

Bullets zipped all around him as another explosion sent chunks of dirt slamming into his back sending new bolts of pain up his spine. A pair of Fire Warriors miraculously heard Roan and threw down their guns, diving to the edge of the puddle to try and fish the guardsman out.

"Come on! He's still under the mud!" All three of them tried to push apart the mud, spreading it out and digging with an almost feral drive to rescue a man from a horrifying fate. Roan clawed at the surface, but something was wrong. It was getting harder to see. It must have been the rain but he was also feeling tired. Roan thought that he might have pushed himself a little too hard and he needed a breather. Everything was starting to go a bit fuzzy around the edges. He just needed a second to catch his breath and close his eyes. Just for a second, it wouldn't be for long. Otherwise the commissar might catch him.

As Roan's head slowly began to slump towards the ground, a new sound was heard above the rain. Above the bullets and explosions. And above the roar of engines. A raucous choir formed into a single chaotic voice.

"WAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!"

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

"Command! We need more air support! We're getting torn up out here!" Omaris shouted into a voxcaster unit, pressing his body against the floor of Hawker 2 in an attempt to avoid the wild bullets of the Ork shootas.

"Negative! AA fire is ripping apart our birds." Omaris watched as a Sororitas Avenger fighter spun into the ground beyond the grassy canopy, "Advance with the xenos armor to clear a flight corridor."

Omaris cursed, "Understood. Alright guardsmen! Move up with those hover tanks!"

The surviving guardsmen piled up behind the brightly colored Hammerheads and Devilfish, thanking the existence of those fancy Tau shield drones. The Tau tanks were perfect to ignore the rough terrain that Imperial vehicles would have struggled to move in. Gliding over the mud and pushing aside the dense grass, their advanced sensors were able to identify the approximate area that most of the fire was coming from and were now leading the push forward alongside Fire Warriors to slowly encircle the greenskins.

As the combined forces began to advance, the Orks began to retreat, causing cheers as railguns turned greenskins into red mist and meaty paste. Invigorated, the Tau and Imperials rushed forward towards the Ork trenches until something jumped out and ran towards them.

Suddenly, a series of explosions rocked the battleline, one of them blowing open the tank Omaris and his squad were using as cover.

"Bomb squigs! Shot them!" the shower of red beams flung out from the squad, cutting down several of the suicide animals. They began to spread out and look for cover until the ground shook again and a pillar of fire and dirt blasted out of the ground.

"Artillery! Get to ground!" Omaris dove as more shells landed nearby soon followed by storms of suppressive fire. As he wormed his way across the ground, he saw another pair of guardsmen shouting in panic as a bomb squig hopped its way towards them and exploded. The sergeant realized what the Orks were doing, they were trying to force the attackers to stop moving so they could be hunted down piecemeal.

"Command!" Omaris reached for the vox caster's bisected torso, "We NEED air support, we're being ripped apart one by one out here and the xeno armor is going up in flames!"

"Sergeant, every flyer we try to send out gets shot down. We can't send anymore without losing our entire fleet!"

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do? Sit here and die?" Omaris roared into the reciever.

"Watch and learn mon-keigh." Streaks of alien light zoomed by in the sky as several Orkish emplacements exploded, "This is Star Spinner on station. The hunt begins now."

The Eldar flyers proved no match for the Ork's guns. Their formerly devastating concentrated fire was barely hitting the Eldar's afterimages as run by run, their guns were either destroyed or taken out. The tide of battle was shifting as Fire Warriors and guardsmen could now focus on shooting the bomb squigs. Now, Imperial Command was hailing Omaris and what they said would seal the battle.

" _This is Command. Space Marine drop enroute. Gloriana Maxima deploying."_

Suddenly, several Astartes-sized drop pods fell from the sky, slamming into the muddy ground before deploying warriors of the Conservators. Bolter and blade rang out across the battlefield, inspiring the mortal foot troopers. With a triumphant roar, they all began to move forward, into the Ork trenches and towards the Kamp.

Being in those trenches was almost reassuring to the guardsmen. A morbid familiarity let them relax a little as they reorganized themselves and avoided the piles of dung all over the place. With the AA now gone, Mechanicus and Sororitas fighters were making attack runs against the heavily fortified Ork stronghold. Valkyries were now landing troops who quickly disembarked and unfurled their standards. Behind them, Sky Talons dropped off a handful of Venators who immediately began firing upon landing. But the biggest arrival was that of the titan.

A fog horn blared out. Gloriana Maxima appeared on the deck of the house with a box in hand. The titan, now covered in many layers of protection, swept its menacing faceplate towards the Ork stronghold. A pair of small but powerful flashlights danced across the battlefield as if searching for prey to hunt. All of the Ork guns turned to face the massive titan, letting the Imperials and the Tau to rush in towards the stronghold.

A dozen banners rose out of the trenches along with a hundred soldiers, each shouting hymns to the Emperor, praise of the Greater Good or any number of warcries. The Orks countered with their own bellowing WAAGGHHH and charged out to meet them. The Guard continued to charge forth, bayonets affixed, while the Tau formed firing lines and blasted into the wave of oncoming Orks. Fighters rushed above them, strafing entire columns and blasting holes into the stronghold's crude walls.

Gloriana Maxima continued its implacable march forward, its multi-layer armor now protecting it against the wild shots of the Orks. Step by step, the ground shook as the titan got closer and closer, blotting out what moonlight there was as it towered over the battle and the kamp.

Inside of the kamp, Space Marines engaged in furious hand to hand melee, the finely wrought blades of the Conservators matching the crude choppas blow for blow.

"Come onz Spoce Mahrineez!" the warboss shouted as he hacked off the arm of a marine, "Itz dat da best yuz got?"

Suddenly, a green rift appeared in the center of the brawl, announced by a massive zapping bang. The figure who walked out was tall and ornately decorated with a cape of metal scales. Tazmun alone exited the portal, his glaive in hand and face undisturbed by the mass of primitives around him.

"Wotz dis? A boney boy wantza scrappin?" the Warboss jeered at Tazmun.

"In accordance with the rules of war, I will give you a single chance to lay down your arms and terminate yourselves, brute." Tazmun idly swatted away a rokkit aimed at him, sending it flying into the air.

"A kowardly boney boy nob? HA!" the Warboss laughed as his mega armor creeked, "Maybe I oughta let me grotz foight ya den!"

"Oh I am no coward." Tazmun spun around a full circle and pointed his glaive at the massive Ork leader, "I am simply a distraction."

"Ov wot?" The Warboss managed to look up in time to see Gloriana Maxima tower over the entire kamp, box in hand. Without a word, the titan tipped the box and one by one, Necrons began to rain from the sky. One by one, they began to land in the mud and pull themselves upright. Some were pulled apart by Orkz, but many more survived and began to overwhelm the Orks on the inside with numbers, tearing into their green hides with necrodermis claws or blasting ashy holes into them.

Outside, the Guard and the Tau cut through the Orks with the help of air support. The greenskin line began to buckle and their forces began to run but didn't make it far. The Warboss opened his mouth to shout at his boyz to get back in the fight but instead his open jaw was filled with Tazmun's glaive.

"So much raw strength. So little brain power." Tazmun withdrew his glaive and decapitated the Warboss where he stood, "Perhaps I should have fought one of your underlings, maybe they would have been wise enough to run."

=][= | =][= | =][= | =][= | =][=

The Ork Kommando Longspoda watched the battle from afar on his makeshift scouting post painted hot pink. Through his magnifying glass, he watched how the battle turned and the mega humie appeared. That alone was excitement enough but seeing all of the other forces come out to fight was almost irresistible. Longspoda punched his communication grot who in turn punched the secret code of "1-1-1" into the radio.

"Ey boss, dis is Longspoda. Kamp got krump'd 'n so did Bludgit. Lossa gud foightin' doh. Spoda me sum 'umies, some bigga 'umies, dem pointy ear gitz, dem fishy facez 'n un of 'em bone boy nobz. Wuz also da biggest 'umie gargant I'z eva seen."

"A 'umie gargant? How big?"

"Bigga den at least... ten mega gargantz togeva!"

"Interesting... 'Ow many gitz youz see in towtal?"

"Lotz! Lotz 'n lotz boss! Enuff for a roight proppa scrappin' like youz said!"

The Warlord chuckled as he got off his looted throne and walked out of his personal fortress at the top of the shelves. With a nod, a grot menial blew into a misshapen plastic horn. Below, the green tide that stretched from wall to wall stopped what they were doing and looked up from their continuous shanty town towards their Warlord.

"Listen 'ere boyz!" the Warlord bellowed, "Da word is dat sum ov youz fink dat big scrappin' Iz promised ya ain't coming! Well today'z da day! We'ze got all of dem gitz to fight out 'ere. Humies, pointy ears, fishy faces 'n even dem boney boyz! 'N bess ov all, dere's being a mega-mega-gargant humie for us ta loot! 'Eady ya seelvz boyz! Cause we'ze gonna WAAGGGHHHH!"

A stomping cheer rang out as the entire horde replied with an enthusiastic WAAGGGHH of their own. After so long, their Warlord was finally going to give them the fight they all wanted.

"Rememba ladz, we'ze not made for foightan! We'ze made for WINNING! WAAGGGHHH!" the Warlord raised his massive choppa, Blackhakka and shook it in triumph.

With the crowd below him cheering, the Warboss put a hand across his many trophies, stopping at the one around his neck: a broken Inquisitorial rosette with a massive gash across it. In unison every Nob, Ork and Grot began to chain his name with a stomp that shook the basement.

"EYEBREKKA! EYEBREKKA! EYEBREKKA!"

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is originally posted on FF.net, I'm still learning how AOE3's formatting works so sorry for any weirdness. Comments, kudos and bookmarks always welcomed and reviews are even more so!


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